King and Company
by BloodofDurin
Summary: The Battle of Five Armies is over and Erebor was theirs once more - but the fighting does not stop there. Thorin and Dwalin, with their similar war-filled pasts, have had little time to find the one thing they both yearned for. Will the road to love run smoothly? Well...does it ever? Thorin/OC Dwalin/OC
1. Chapter 1

**I am new to this so this will be my first ever smut. I am writing for FUN only, but if there are any obvious mistakes then feel free to message me.  
I welcome any constructive feedback, as well as your opinions and suggestions. I hope you enjoy.**

WARNING: This story will contain smut. If this is not your thing, you may not want to read further.

She was certainly no ordinary woman, thought Kili as he made his way over to her through the crowded market streets of Dale. Lightly muscled arms, calloused hands and wild hair braided with beads of sapphire blue and glittering silver gems. Not many people offered her a second glance, her clothes in the fashion of the men of the town, and many thought her either odd, or dangerous.

They were right in both senses, _that_ the young dwarf knew, and it was partly for this reason that he approached her now. She looked up as he neared, hammer poised over the metal swords she was working, before she recognised the face of the youngest heir of Durin. Quickly, she replaced the hammer back on the work bench and straightened, bowing low as he came to a stop near her. Kili flushed a little, still not used to being treated like royalty, and cast his eyes around the forge nervously until he could gather his courage.

The woman waited patiently, never taking her eyes off of his face, until Kili met her questioning gaze. He was not sure how to even broach the subject with her, as he was certain the information he had already gained about her was strictly personal, but he had to know. It concerned his uncle, the man he looked up to and respected as a father – he had to know why he had chosen _her._

'What is your name?' he asked, his voice not quite so commanding as Fili's would have been in this situation. A royal prince commanded, they did not ask timidly, but Kili could not quite make himself appear cold and authoritative.

The woman smiled gently, 'My name is Dala, my lord.'

'I…I have seen you many times in Erebor,' said Kili. 'Especially with...with my uncle, and I just wanted to…I heard something concerning you.' The young dwarf felt himself blush at his stuttering and half-finished sentences, but his nerves were getting the better of him. Dala appeared quite shocked at first, until her face descended into contemplation and finally, resignation.

Kili watched her closely, wondering if he should demand an answer instead of asking so politely, when Dala nodded to herself and beckoned for him to follow her. She hastily erected a sign that told potential customers of her absence, before leading Kili through a side door and into a comfortable sitting area. Kili felt a little guilty at the inconvenience he was causing, but his curiosity was burning brightly now and it seemed like he was finally getting somewhere. Days of speculation, asking Fili's opinion, and being told to 'mind his own business' had only added fuel to the fire and this was the ultimate pay off.

Dala gestured for him to take a seat, before she threw tea leaves into a kettle and put it to the boil, 'Would you mind telling me what it is you heard?'

Kili licked his dry lips, 'I heard Balin and my uncle discussing an upcoming ceremony, so I…I listened in, I thought it was my brother's coming of age,' he added, feeling more than a little guilty at his invasion of privacy. Dala made no comment, but carried on preparing their tea until she set his cup down in front of him. He took a sip before continuing, 'Balin was saying something about finding a hidden clause in some legal document, which allowed the King to…to marry one of common blood.'

The blacksmith sighed and replaced her cup on the table next to her, 'I see. So you think he was talking about me?'

'They mentioned 'the blacksmith' after they discussed the legal document,' replied Kili. 'I didn't know what they meant, until I found out that the blacksmith was a woman.'

She laughed at that, 'You made a bold guess, my lord. However, it will do me no good to lie to you, and it appears half of the population of Erebor and Dale will know the truth if your uncle holds important conversations within hearing range of others.'

His heart beat a little fast as he asked, 'So I was right? You…and….and my uncle are…?'

'Allow me to explain,' she said, taking a sip of her tea. Kili nodded and settled back in his chair, pleased to know that he was the first one to know the full story, and would have found something out before his older brother. Dala smiled at him, 'You are not the first to express surprise at my profession, indeed many take it as an insult that a woman should practise such skills in plain sight of men. However, no one has dared approach me with these opinions…no doubt you can guess why.'

'My uncle?'

'Precisely,' she said. 'When I first met your uncle, I was nothing more than a sell sword, wandering the wilderness, aiding causes here and there with my skills and getting paid enough to scrape by. My father taught me to fight, having always wanted a son, and I was more than eager to learn, having always wanted to please him. Thus, when he died and my mother not three days after him, I was forced into a nomadic life.'

Kili frowned, 'I'm sorry.'

She shook her head, 'It was so long ago, I can hardly even remember their faces; yet my father's teachings have never left me, and had it not been for his determination to have a warrior for a child, I may never have survived. As it was, seventy years after I left my home in the far west, I came across a wizard.'

'Gandalf, I'll bet.'

'Of course,' she chuckled. 'I believe I met him while you were having a stand-off with the men of Dale, as this was the reason he came to me. My skills were decent enough to earn me a respectable reputation, and so I was offered a small fortune in return for my aid against the goblin army that…I have been told since…you were not then aware of.'

Kili nodded, remembering the time well, thought it was years ago now. Thorin had been driven mad with anger and gold lust, cursing the halfling to hell and forbidding any of them to leave the mountain on pain of exile. Had it not been for Bilbo, they would have all perished. Dala, noticing his melancholy, hastily resumed, 'I fought with you in the Battle of Five Armies, leading a small band of dwarves that you would call thieves, blaggards and rouges; but I called them kinsman, and they fought with me truly until the battle was won.'

'I have heard of such men,' said Kili, wondering which clan they were from. 'They say criminals stick together.'

Dala nodded, 'That they do, though I assure you I am no thief or murderer. I helped them though, if they had gotten themselves into scrapes or fights. It was how I managed to feed myself, and I made friends that way. I had no choice.'

Kili nodded in understanding, 'I would have done the same, no doubt.'

She smiled, 'Luckily for me, those days are behind me. Gandalf introduced me to Thorin, telling him of my actions, as well as the promise of gold. Of course, he did not at first believe a word. It annoyed me, quite frankly, and I gave him a piece of my mind…which somehow seemed to turn his anger into curiosity.'

'You stood up to uncle!?' asked Kili, incredulously.

'I have never answered to anyone, and I do not take insults lightly. Your uncle found that out the hard way,' she explained, smiling at the memory. 'Once Dain's men, for that was whom my little band of outlaws belonged to, had accounted for my actions – I was not given the money. Instead, your uncle offered me a job – here.'

'I accepted at once, having longed for a place to stay and rest and live all of my life. I thought it was the best gift anyone had given me, and we came to a mutually beneficial agreement,' said Dala, draining her cup. 'He started visiting me every day, at first to see how well I was doing and if my skill was of a high enough quality; then it was to check the progress of some of his orders; then he came to ask me about my life, and my parents. I was confused and slightly irritated at the constant interruption, though I could not refuse the king, not after he had given me this opportunity.'

'Then what happened?' asked Kili, who was now back to sitting on the very edge of his seat.

Dala's eyes suddenly slicked to a spot directly above Kili's head before she grinned brightly, 'Ask him yourself.'

Kili felt his insides turn to ice as he froze in place, eyes widening in fear. He heart heavy footsteps come closer to his chair, before the air beside him moved and Thorin sat down next to his nephew, blue eyes intense in their scrutiny. Kili bowed his head, before inching his eyes upwards and tentatively meeting his uncles gaze, 'I'm sorry, uncle.'

'A little late for that, don't you think?' he said, voice low and gruff as ever. The king exchanged a glance with Dala, who shrugged and smiled serenely back at him, before he turned once more towards his youngest heir. 'We will discuss privacy, as well as suitable punishment later. However, since we are so far into this tale, we may as well get it over with. Come, insolent one. What is it you want to know?'

Kili trembled under the force of Thorin's eyes, swallowing thickly as he forced his voice to croak out, 'Why did you choose her? How did…how did you _know_ she was the one?'

The king was silent for a few moments, thinking the question through. Dala appeared to be waiting also, no doubt eager to hear the answer herself, until Thorin seemed to take a deep breath.

'I didn't know, Kili.' The answer was unexpected, but Kili could sense the truth behind the words. Thorin looked at Dala, who gazed back at him questioningly before he added, 'It's something you feel, rather. I tried to imagine myself marrying a princess, as I was expected to, and I could not do it without feeling pain. No one has ever dared contradict me, raise their voice at me or deny me anything for as long as I have lived. Yet Dala,' he said, his smile sudden as it was brilliant as he nodded towards her, 'she did all of those things fearlessly, and I could not help but admire her for it. I need to be told when I am wrong, or acting unkindly and a princess would never have dared do it. I want to respect my wife, admire her and be proud of her…as well as love her. That is what I have been looking for all these years, and I never found it until now, because I was looking in all of the wrong places.'

Kili felt himself smiling despite it all, looking between his uncle and the blacksmith with understanding and affection. Their love, it seemed to him, was honest and true – not the result of some arranged marriage between two kings with nothing but gold as their incentive. It was the result of a love strong enough to defy the customs of their race, ones that his uncle had always strictly adhered to, and Kili felt a little proud of his uncle for that. Though the man was known to be rough, harsh at times even; he had never seen his uncle love, or even kiss another living soul. To see this kind of tenderness in the eyes of Thorin, as he looked upon this unassuming woman, was a miracle in itself.

'I understand,' he said finally, rising to his feet. Thorin snapped his gaze away from Dala, obviously forgetting Kili's presence in the room for a moment, and coloured a little in his cheeks. 'I have training with Dwalin in five minutes, so I will leave you. I swear this conversation will not leave this room by my doing.'

Thorin nodded, 'I should hope not, Kili. Tonight, you will report to the council chambers for our discussion. For now you're excused. It is not advisable to keep Dwalin waiting.'

Kili nodded hastily, before bowing and practically running out of the door. Once he was gone, Thorin turned back to Dala and raised an eyebrow, 'Care to explain yourself?'

Dala looked unphased, 'He overheard your conversation with master Balin, discussing the legality of marriage outside the royal line. Your nephew is quick as he is curious, my lord. It did not take him long to find me, and start asking questions.'

'Those nephews of mine,' grumbled Thorin, rising from his chair. Dala copied, thinking he was getting up to leave, before he held out his arm to stop her, 'My duties for the day have been resolved more quickly than I anticipated. It would please me if you joined me for a walk.'

Dala felt her heart leap at the prospect, 'But the forge? I have orders to meet.'

'Gloin, and his young son Gimli, are handling the work for today,' he said, waving his hand dismissively. 'You are not needed in the forge, so perhaps you will consent?'

Suppressing a grin, Dala nodded and Thorin seemed to stand a little straighter. He led the way out of the little room, through the forge and out onto the street where people gazed at them with a mixture of awe and curiosity. The men bowed, the women curtsied, and Thorin greeted them all with a smile and an incline of his head. His guard followed at a short distance until they came to the edge of the forest surrounding the borders of the market town, where they suddenly stopped and spread out in formation, facing away from the retreating couple.

Dala became a little worried, 'Thorin, people will see! We are not yet married! What will they think if they see you walking into the forest with a woman?'

The king smirked, 'My guards have spread word that a rare metal has been discovered by the elves, and we go to discuss prices with them in their own territory. That will stop any dwarves from following, and the men of dale have no love of metal…or elves really…so we are in no danger there.'

'But why?' she asked, feeling a little apprehensive as they broke through the line of trees and plunged deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees were thick and close together, Thorin leading them off the beaten track and down past bushes, thick brambles and hedges so close together that – had Thorin not had tight hold of her hand – she would have been utterly lost. Finally, they emerged through the last obstacle and into a very beautiful clearing, overshadowed by a very large Mallorn tree. Dala was surprised, wondering why Thorin had brought her to this spot, under a tree associated with elves of all races.

He took off his coat and laid it down, before sitting and patting the ground next to him. His coat felt luxurious underneath her, the warmth of his lingering body heat, as well as the thickness of the fur, was enough to elicit a groan from her and a chuckle from Thorin, 'I found this spot whilst tracking a stag through the forest. I'd lost sight of Dwalin and Oin, who'd gone on ahead of me, and stumbled across it by accident.'

Dala looked around, noticing the small flowers colouring the long grass here and there. They were entirely hidden in the long, green stems and Dala could feel her pulse racing at the thought. Why had he brought her there? 'It's beautiful,' she said, honestly. It really was. The air was warm and fragrant, there was no sound at all save the wind through the leaves and the gentle hum of insects buzzing around their heads.

Seconds ticked by until she simply had to ask, 'Is there a purpose for bringing me here, Thorin?'

The king did not answer immediately; instead, he looked a little nervous himself as he cast his gaze around the clearing, leaning back so that he was propped up on his elbows with his legs stretched out in front of him, 'I simply thought you would like it,' he replied eventually, looking up at her with a slightly mischievous smile.

Blushing, she looked away, before she felt him tugging at her coat on the back, urging her to lay down. She did, not wanting to disobey him, and closed her eyes against the glare of the sun in her face. It was lovely like that, she decided. It was relaxing to simply lay there, with Thorin at her side, his scent washing over her every now and then as the wind carried it. However, when a shadow loomed over her blocking the light behind her eyelids, Dala again felt the apprehension. Thorin's deep blue eyes were boring down into hers, his body turned to the side so that he was half laying over her, his left hand playing with one of her tresses that hung down at her hip.

_Mahal_, he was handsome. His right arm supporting his weight, hand tangled in his thick dark hair, showing his muscular body off to its full advantage. He watched her eyes travel down his body, reaching down past his waist and across his thighs, his smirk growing; obviously, he knew what he was doing when he brought her there. Her father had never really warned her about this sort of thing, so intent was he in training her to fight. However, she knew enough not to be lured so easily into his trap. He may be attractive, and the king of Erebor…but he was not her husband yet.

Dala smiled at him pleasantly, before sitting back up and pulling at the grass below her. Thorin huffed in annoyance and copied her, his eyes never leaving her face. Dala faced him, trying to convey the fact that she had boundaries and morals just as well as the next self-respecting woman, as she asked, 'How did the meeting go yesterday?'

The king looked away then, clearly disappointed that his charms had not worked on her this time as he replied, 'That was the reason I came to see you. Balin has found a clause stating that a king has the right to revoke and amend changes to the rules within his kingdom, so long as the new rules are left in place for a minimum of fifty years.'

Dala blinked in surprise, 'You intend to change the rules of marriage, then?'

'I'm not sure,' he said, meeting her gaze once again. She nodded, downcast and resigned, which Thorin immediately picked up on. 'You mistake me,' he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. He kissed her fingers, his lips warm and supple and it caused her to shiver, 'What I mean is, I cannot change the rules alone. I will have to put it to the other council members, and the decision must be unanimous.'

Dala sighed in relief, though her fear did not go away. She offered him a smile though and Thorin returned it warmly, 'So,' he said, inching his body closer to hers. Dala did not move away as his hands settled at her waist and pulled her onto his lap abruptly. She gasped, blushing hard at the position she now found herself in, straddling his thighs with her arms about his neck. The king kissed the hollow of her throat, 'We will be married as soon as possible.'

'But we are not married yet,' she reminded him, looking down to where his face nuzzled her neck.

She bit back a moan, not wanting to encourage him further, but the feel of his rough whiskers on her sensitive skin was so delicious her body eventually betrayed her. She shivered in his lap, causing his arms to encircle her waist and pull her closer, holding her there tightly, 'No one would know,' he said, sounding less like a king, and more like a young dwarf no older than his youngest nephew.

She shook her head, 'I would know, and it would not sit well with me. The self-control we exercise now will be rewarded once we are married, and our wedding night is before us.'

Thorin groaned at that, and Dala could feel his hardness pressing insistently against her. He was still kissing her neck, occasionally snatching a few kisses just above her breasts. Her bodice covered enough, though being endowed with a woman's figure, they inevitably bulged a little out of the top, 'Oh _Mahal_, I want you, Dala!' he growled, hands stroking up her sides and lingering suspiciously close to her chest. 'Please, do not deny me.'

She leaned back a little, 'In anything else, you know I could never deny you. But this is my choice, Thorin. Stop trying to force the issue.'

'I am not forcing!' he ground out, a little outraged.

Dala sighed, thinking she had better put a little distance between herself and her betrothed before he did something they would both regret. However, Thorin seemed to anticipate her move and pushed her back onto the grass with a gasp and squeal of surprise from her, rolling so that his body was above hers and his hips in between her parted thighs. He held her hands above her head, eyes dizzy with desire. Dala was breathing heavily in both fear and arousal, 'Thorin! Enough, please! Release my hands.'

Suddenly his eyes cleared and he seemed to shake himself, releasing her hands immediately. He supported his body on his hands then, looking down into her face with an expression of such horror and guilt that she lost her anger at his actions on the spot. Pushing himself back, so that he was resting on his knees, the king shook his head.

'Forgive me,' he pleaded. 'My desire for you grows by the day and I am struggling to stay away from you, but I would never have forced you, Dala. I hope you can believe that. It is not who I am.'

Dala did not move from her position laying under him, 'I know that. I have seen my fair share of young lovers on my travels and, though I have never experienced it myself, have often seen how easily desire can lead to more. I do not want us to break every rule of your kingdom, though. This one certainly.'

Sadness turned to understanding and a little pride as she smiled up at him, though the desire for her had not completely gone. His eyes raked over her body again before he asked, 'Am I permitted to kiss you?'

Nodding, Dala reached up to tug at his shirt, urging him back down. Though intercourse was off the agenda for now, she was not exactly adverse to other forms of intimacy. Thorin did not need telling twice. He complied easily resting on his forearms as his hips aligned with hers once more, his erection still pressing thick and hard into her stomach. He kissed her softly at first, relishing the contact as her arms wound around his neck and her fingers into his hair. He resumed stroking her sides again, moving just shy of her breasts, until Dala reached down to take his hand in hers, moving it so that he cupped her breast.

He paused, shocked, before moaning her name softly and squeezing her breast lightly, rocking his hips slowly. Their kisses got more heated then, his tongue tracing her lips until she allowed him into her mouth, angling his head so that he could kiss her as deeply as possible. Small sounds of pleasure were escaping her also, though that probably had more to do with the feeling of his rough hand against her bare skin, as they found their way inside her shirt. Thorin kissed her for a moment longer before pulling away and looking down at her heatedly, 'Take it off,' he commanded.

Dala frowned, 'Take what off?'

'Your bodice.'

'Thorin!'

'I promise I will not go further,' he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

She thought for a moment, weighing up the severity of the act compared to a lot of the courting she had seen from other dwarvish couples. His hips still rolled against hers, his breath a little uneven, and she felt a little sorry for him at that moment. He clearly needed something, even if she refused him what he really wanted, and besides…he _was_ the king.

'Fine,' she said, as she began to slowly unclip the metal buckles that held it together at the front. Thorin watched this eagerly, eyes glittering as he hastily pulled her coat from her shoulders, before pulling his own shirt over his head and discarding it over his shoulder. Dala took the opportunity to ogle him now, thinking she had at least earned that right after narrowly avoiding a temper tantrum before. He was glorious to look at, despite the many scars and marks of battle and near death that littered his lightly tanned skin. The muscle was bulky and hardened, his chest broad and covered with smatterings of black, course hair that trailed down and disappeared under his waistband.

She bit her lip in appreciation, which did not go unnoticed. Thorin grinned, 'Like what you see, blacksmith?'

Dala smirked back at him, 'You're well aware just how much I do, me and just about every other female within a hundred miles of Erebor.'

Thorin became impatient then, taking over the unclipping of her tight bodice with suspiciously practiced hands, 'I care nothing for 'other females' and their opinions.'

'Good,' she replied, as the restrictive corset popped open and Thorin threw it back to where his shirt lay behind him, 'because I am no princess. I find swords more cutting than words, and I have no problem using that against people.'

Thorin gasped at the sight before him, her skin naked before his eyes. He cupped her breasts in both of his hands, his hips finding a harder, quicker rhythm as he buried his face between them. Heat travelled to the junction between her thighs, and she arched up to meet his thrusts, causing their skin to rub together and the king to moan loudly, 'Dala!'

Relishing the feel of his hot, sweat licked skin against hers, Dala ran her hands down his broad back until they found his waist. Grabbing his backside roughly, she squeezed hard and felt satisfied when he cried out and began thrusting against her in earnest now. His right hand grabbed underneath her thigh, holding her leg up and over his shoulder and his left hand propped him up, 'Oh Mahal, _Mahal_,' he moaned, his voice gruff and husky with need. 'So close, _zirikh zu_!' Dala wrapped her free leg around his hips and urged him on faster, knowing just how much he needed this.

His lips found hers again, crushing hers with force and surety, moans and sounds escaping him between each kiss. Suddenly, his hips stopped and his eyes scrunched up. Dala frowned, 'What is the matter?' she asked breathlessly.

Thorin's arms trembled with the effort to stay up, 'If I carry on, I…I will come.'

Nodding, Dala rose up and pushed him to his knees, before circling behind him and reaching around to undo the laces of his trousers. Thorin turned to look at her with a question on his lips, which she silenced with a long, slow kiss. When she pulled back, the fastenings had fallen apart and she reached inside, grasping his thick length and stroking him hard.

Thorin cried out, hands gripping her thighs that were on either side of him, and rocked his hips forward and backward in time with her strokes. She kissed his back, tracing her tongue over the scars that were eye level with her, and allowed her other hand to sneak into his trousers and cup his balls, rolling them and stroking them softly, which sent him into a frenzy. Cursing and groaning, he tilted his head back so that it rested against hers, his hips thrusting into her hand as he desperately tried to find his release, 'Faster!' he hissed, as sweat trickled down his chest.

She complied, redoubling her effort until her arm began to ache and she felt pre-cum running down her hand and arm. Thorin's breathing became laboured again and his grip became vice like on her leg, 'Gonna come, Dala!' he warned, just as his balls tightened and the first spasms of orgasm caused his length to twitch. '_Ah!_ I'm coming!'

And he did, _hard._ He roared his release, exploding thickly onto the grass before him as his seed ran through her fingers as they slowly brought him down from his high. She stroked him gently as he rode out his orgasm in her hands, before he began to soften and her hand fell away. Wiping the semen onto the grass, Thorin collapsed back against her and breathed deeply for a few moments, until Dala was almost sure he was asleep. However, he sat up suddenly, tucking himself back into his trousers and turned, capturing her lips once more.

Dala felt arousal throbbing in her nether regions, the ache both pleasant and painful, until he suddenly cupped her – rubbing in circles. This elicited a delighted groan, and her own hips bucking beneath his hand. Thorin grinned, 'I want you to moan for me as I do this, so I can have that memory in my mind when I am alone.'

She smirked, 'And what do you plan to do with such a memory?'

Thorin slid his hand beneath her waistband and stroked her slick entrance with his finger. He groaned at the same time she did, his finger circling her entrance teasingly, playing with her clit as he answered, 'Moan with you as I find my release. Your face alone has served me well up till now…but I want more.'

The thought of Thorin stroking himself to orgasm in bed, alone, and calling her name to the gods was enough to rip a strangled cry from her. Thorin began kissing her again, his finger plunging into her tight entrance, and the pain that lanced through her forced him to pause and allow her to adjust. Eventually, Dala urged him on until he was fucking her with his finger, Dala whimpering and mewling under his touch. After a while he added two, then three fingers, until she was riding his hand and crying out his name into the clearing.

Thorin continued kissing her, lips, neck, breasts and face until he felt her walls begin to shiver, 'Come for me, my love,' he begged, hand moving fast and hard within her. 'Say my name. Come for me!'

She complied, 'Thorin! _Ahh_, I'm coming!'

Her walls spasmed suddenly, clenching and unclenching around Thorin's fingers as her orgasm coursed through her. Thorin watched as her face contorted in ecstasy, his arousal returning somewhat, until she collapsed back onto his coat.

Four hours they lay there, after staying awake long enough to get dressed again and rearrange their clothes. Dala lay on her side, with Thorin spooning her from behind – one large arm curled around her protectively, the other grasping the hilt of Orcrist tightly in case someone – or something – came upon them.


	2. chapter 2

You seemed distracted today, lad.' Dwalin was watching his young pupil with concern, while Kili struggled back to his feet from where he'd fell to the ground. He was not up to his usual impeccable standards, his mind wandering and causing him sufficient distraction to allow the flat side of Dwalin's sword to hit him again and again with little resistance.

Kili shrugged, 'I'm fine. Just tired and stuff.'

Nodding, Dwalin let it go until he could ascertain the truth behind it. Just then the two heard a commotion from the main road into the mountain. Packing up swiftly, they made their way across the field and down the bank, coming face to face with the King and the Blacksmith, returning from their 'meeting with the elves.' Dwalin was not stupid, contrary to popular belief, and he knew his closest friend all too well. Thorin had been lusting after the Blacksmith for months, and – though it was not yet widely known – intended to make her is consort.

The large dwarf chuckled, the laughter rolling through his chest like thunder, causing Kili to look up at him curiously, 'What is it, Mister Dwalin?'

'Nothing, lad. Just a hunch.'

Dwalin watched as Kili blushed and looked away, looking anywhere but Dwalin, or the secret couple. At once, he caught on and his face darkened, 'You know!?' he asked, roughly.

The younger dwarf tensed, 'Thorin knows that I know, don't worry.'

'I expect he wasn't too pleased with you when he found out?' growled Dwalin.

'No. I'm to go for punishment as soon as I get back to the mountain.'

He smirked, 'Well you better get going, then.

Kili's shoulders slumped as he sheathed his sword and headed back to the entrance. The older dwarf watched him go, wondering just exactly what he'd heard, and if it was something more than perhaps Dwalin himself knew? He shook his head, deciding that perhaps he didn't want to know either way, and headed down the hill after Kili, swerving right to take him down one of the darker tunnels to the armoury. It was better stocked than it had been two years ago, what with the reintroduction of metal work and mining once again, but there was still a lot missing from their collection and they never knew when they might need it next.

The rest of the day he had free, which meant only one thing; the tavern.

Gloin, Oin, Nori, Ori, Bofur and Bifur were already there, seated around the largest of the round oak tables, laughing and drinking raucously. Usually, those that were members of the famous company met in the tavern on an evening, even the king himself, though he usually came much later once the ordinary folk had gone. Gloin looked up when he heard the door bang open and immediately lifted his tankard in the air, 'Dwalin, my lad! We were beginning to think you weren't coming!'

The burly dwarf snorted and took a seat next to Bofur, 'Fat chance of that. Finished my training with young Kili a little later than expected…the lad's a bit scatter-brained of late.'

Nori smirked, 'Oh, really…I wonder why _that_ is.'

They all turned they eyes towards the self-confessed sneak. Ori frowned, 'What do you mean by that, brother?'

'Well, I'm surprised you lot haven't noticed,' he said, with an air of superiority. Dwalin narrowed his eyes along with Oin, and Bifur growled something in Khuzdul. Nori held up his hands in mock surrender, 'No need to be so rude, gentlemen. All I'm saying is, if you haven't noticed Kili's sudden…attachment…to that young serving lass in the royal kitchens, you're all as blind as Oin is deaf.'

'Oi! I heard that!' exclaimed Oin.

Nori shrugged, and the others gasped a little in astonishment. Even Dwalin himself was a little surprised at this, considering the current laws against royals marrying into common blood. However, it was no secret that Thorin was not happy with that law, and Balin had hinted at a change to the legal system with all his talk of reform and council meetings. Perhaps the young lad might have a chance after all. Dwalin sat a little straighter as he said in his most commanding voice, 'I've noticed no such thing,' he said, giving Nori his hardest stare. The dwarf shrank back a little, but lost none of his mischievous air. The others fell silent, 'Even so, let the lad do as he chooses. He's earned that right, him and his brother…damn it, all of us have.'

Nods and sounds of agreement followed this, and Bofur held up his tankard, 'Aye! Dwalin's right. Good for Kili, I say. And here's to hoping I get so lucky!' Everyone laughed and toasted, gulping down their choice drinks. At was then that Dwalin noticed there had been no maid to their table, and his brow furrowed dangerously.

He looked up, glaring around the room – not being of a very gentle and understanding nature – before he spotted a figure he had not seen before. The girl was younger than Bronwen, the older and meaner bar maid, and appeared to be struggling under the weight of about ten tankards of ale, amid a chorus of drunken laughter and petty insults. This caused his chest to tighten and his anger to flare more dangerously; because outright cruelty to a woman, whatever her incompetent bar maid or no, was not honourable on any level.

Bofur lowered his tankard and followed his line of vision, 'That's Emmy, the new bar maid. Not the best, I must say, but – hey! – are those lad's giving her a hard time?' The dwarf squinted into the deepening gloom of the tavern, replacing his glass.

Dwalin growled, 'Aye, apparently so.' He rose, looking down at Bofur, who nodded and followed him. The others had noticed this, watching them go with mixtures of confusion and amusement in their features. Dwalin got there first, 'Is there a problem over here, gentlemen?'

Bofur immediately went to Emmy's aid, taking most of the tankards out of her much smaller hands before they fell and shattered upon the floor. The dwarves at the table stopped laughing, seeing who it was, and the ring leader – a red bearded, sly faced dwarf not originally from Erebor – glared up at him defiantly, 'Nothing that's got ought to do with you, mister.'

Dwalin smirked, realising that the man did not have a clue who he was, or – as had been known to happen before – knew exactly who he was, and wanted to test to see if the rumours were true. Dwalin, son of Fundin, had long held the reputation of most fearsome warrior amongst Thorin's chosen few, and would be only too happy to show the Ironborn exactly why he held that reputation still. His companions blanched at the idiot's words, inching away from him with their tankards clutched tightly in their large hands, and said not a word in his defence. Evidently, the man was as bad at retaining friends as he was at making them, 'Oh, really? Well that's a little odd, my friend. I see you're not from around here, so I will give you this piece of advice. No one, man or dwarf, comes into this tavern and gives hassle to a woman – or I will _make_ it my business, understand?'

Bofur pulled the woman away toward the bar, knowing Dwalin well enough to give him ample space – and Dwalin could hear her protesting against the impending skirmish. He would not back down though, not when some stone-headed clot thought he could come into his local and act as if he owned it. The red-beard stood, slamming his drink down on the table top and – without any warning at all – slammed his fist into Dwalin's broad chest. It caused the taller dwarf to step back a little, his breath leaving him in one motion – but he recovered quickly. From the opposite end of the bar, Dwalin could hear Bifur, Gloin and Nori as they shouted out insults, and warned the other dwarf that he had made a fatal mistake.

And he most certainly had.

He stood to his full height, glowering down at the fool who seemed to finally understand what he had done. Before he could so much as move to escape, however, Dwalin reached down – picking the man up by the scruff of his tunic – and threw him single-handedly out of the tavern door. The other's cheered and laughed, while the fallen man's companions looked around at each other – clearly wondering if they were next. Dwalin slammed his fists down onto their table, causing all three of them to jump with a start, 'Now listen here. You finish your drinks, pay the lady, and get the hell out – before the King is informed of this.' They nodded hastily, throwing coins onto the table and scrambling for the doors. Dwalin watched them go with a satisfied grin.

Scooping up the pile of money, Dwalin turned to where Bofur and Emmy were leaning against the bar – Bofur chuckling, and the girl trembling in fear. He handed her the change, 'I know they already paid you, but this should cover the damage done to the door. I'll have ale when you're ready.'

She took the money timidly, Dwalin wondering how this frightened little thing even managed to get a job in such a place as this, before she almost squeaked out, 'Yes sir, I'm sorry for…you didn't have to do that.'

Dwalin shrugged, 'Aye, I didn't have to, but it made me feel better.'

Emmy bit her lower lip, and action that Dwalin followed with his eyes, before she left to pour his drink. Returning to his seat, Oin and Bifur slapped him on the shoulder and began to give their own versions of the events – guffawing and gesturing wildly. Dwalin laughed along with them, his eyes occasionally flicking back over to Emmy, his face betraying nothing when she placed his drink in front of him. He thanked her with a curt word and a nod, something he had picked up from Thorin in their younger days.

The night progressed much better after that, and slowly the tavern started to fill up. Word had gotten round about the dwarf that had been catapulted out of the tavern, and many of the dwarves of Erebor came up to him to congratulate him on getting rid of 'unwanted Ironborn scum.' Dwalin shrugged this off, not really wanting a further reputation for inciting hatred of other clans, but happy with his actions nonetheless.

By late evening the other's arrived; leading the group was Bombur, Fili and Kili came next, then Balin, Dori and finally, Thorin. Their meeting must have finished sooner than expected, as the crowd was still pretty thick inside the room, but most were too drunk to realise their king had just entered. Those that did notice were frozen in place, or else called out, bowed and greeted him warmly. He sat down next to Dwalin, blue eyes looking tired but oddly contented. Dwalin narrowed his eyes, 'The meeting went well?'

Thorin met his gaze firmly, 'Council matters shouldn't be discussed in a tavern, Dwalin.'

'Pah! Bollocks,' said Dwalin, it was his ninth ale after all. 'I can see that look in your eyes, my friend. And what's more, I saw you earlier, coming back from your 'meeting' with the blacksmith…'

'Watch your mouth,' Thorin growled back, the blue irises turning out a chilling glare. 'It's none of your business, anyway,' he added, a little softer.

Dwalin nodded, 'Didn't get any then?'

Thorin choked on his wine, before thudding his friend in the arm – a lot harder than that other little rouge had only hours before. Dwalin snickered, face turning up into a grin when he realised that Thorin was not really irritated at _him_. The king tried and failed not to grin back, allowing his rarely seen smile to light his face, as Dwalin slung an arm around his shoulders and muttered only loud enough for Thorin to hear, 'Come on, my friend. Take those marbles out yer mouth and just be one of the lads again! We don't want no king in here.' Saying that, he ordered another round for himself and Thorin, before the pair engaged in a very serious drinking competition.

Thorin won, having started later than Dwalin, though it served the purpose that had been ultimately behind the ruse. Thorin was sufficiently tipsy enough to be a little less touchy, 'I tried, Dwalin!' he was whispering, though it was still rather loud. Luckily, Kili had chosen that moment to fall off his chair, soaking his brother and issuing a brawl to entertain the others. Dwalin chuckled as Thorin leaned heavily on his arms, which were braced on the table, causing him to slump forwards, 'I even took my shirt off…she wouldn't budge.'

'You've got a decent lass there then,' said Dwalin, truthfully. He briefly looked up from Thorin, noticing Emmy moving between the tables with a harried look on her face as she tried to handle the large volume of customers. 'There's few of them around these days.'

'I'm losing my touch,' continued Thorin, as if his friend had not spoken. 'Why didn't it work?'

'You can't expect everyone to be impressed with muscles and brawn, mate.'

'The tavern girls always are.'

Dwalin paused, 'Yeah, they are usually. Not all of them, though.'

Thorin sat up straighter at hearing his friend's tone of voice, before he followed his gaze over to where Emmy was now serving drinks. The king chuckled, 'Was she not impressed when you threw the Ironborn out by his neck?'

Dwalin snapped his gaze away from her instantly and grumbled, 'Dunno what you're talking about.'

'Come, Dwalin. Now who's being stuck up?'

'I am not stuck up!' he hissed, downing yet another ale. 'She looked petrified when I looked at her afterwards.' The alcohol was not only affecting Thorin's sense of secrecy though, it seemed. Dwalin cursed himself, wondering why he had taken a bit of a fancy to the timid looking thing.

Thorin seemed to guess his thoughts, 'She's pretty, and she's determined…many a lass would have given it up for a bad job long ago.' He nodded to where she had just dropped someone's goblet of wine, and was now wiping it up and apologising profusely.

Dwalin felt a stab of sympathy for her, the ache in his chest urging him to go up and help her – but the thought of him, warrior and best friend of the king, wiping wine off of a tavern floor to help a bar maid…it was so funny it made him nauseous. He shook his head to rid himself of that particular notion, 'True enough, but she's fragile and…breakable. Tell me where to find a lass like yours and I'll be happier.'

'You'd be looking a long time for a lass like Dala,' he said wistfully, before launching into another rambling, drunken speech about how bloody wonderful his future bride was. Dwalin was – if honest with himself – more than a little bit jealous. Dala was everything he thought was his type of woman – strong, skilled, fiery and still pretty enough to admire her. Ok, she wasn't the prettiest lass he'd ever seen, but she was ok…and more than made up for it in other areas. However, it was not _Dala_ he was jealous of his friend for, he realised. It was the fact he _had _someone, and she loved him enough to put up with his temper – and tell him when to shut his trap.

It was _that_ Dwalin wanted, a woman he couldn't scare, or break; who would face him and tell him when he was being an arse – which was more often than not. His eyes once again found the bar maid, following her slightly built, fair skinned, soft haired form around the room. He felt something stir inside him, a kind of protectiveness one might feel towards a young animal that was lost or alone. Was it love? He wasn't sure it was.


	3. Chapter 3

A harsh, painful pounding in his head pulled Thorin from a very deep sleep.

Nausea rolled in his stomach, causing him to retch over the side of his bed and onto the stone floor. Unfortunately for him, there was no bucket, bowl or container of any sort within reach, so after half an hour of solid vomiting, his chambers resembled the tavern floor on a Friday evening.

'Serves you right,' came a hard, yet amused voice that sounded too loud in the blissful silence. Thorin winced as he tried to look up, opening his eyes a crack to see his sister standing over by the large wardrobe, giving his general area a wide birth. She shook her head disapprovingly, 'Some king you are, who allows himself to become so intoxicated! The meeting is being held in one hour…Dain is already here!'

Thorin groaned, having completely forgotten the reason for his happiness from last night. Balin had managed to arrange a meeting to discuss possible changes to the legal system, something that had taken weeks to organise, and it was to be held today. How he was going to get to said meeting, however, was an entirely different matter.

He had nothing else to throw up, but that did not stop him from retching anyway as he hauled himself into a sitting position. Dis tusked and went about his room tidying up the mess he's created last night, as he stumbled and blundered about, attempting to find his bed. He was still half dressed, having walked back to Erebor in nothing but breeches and boots thanks to Dwalin, and he was in desperate need of a bath, 'Have someone get me hot water,' he rasped, his throat hoarse from the stomach acid.

Dis nodded, 'I will, so long as you clean _that_,' she said, indicating the rather large pool of sick that was slowly spreading across the room, 'up yourself! No one has done anything to deserve such a task, other than you! Honestly, brother. Even Dwalin managed to at least grab a bed pan!' She shook her head once more before leaving in search of a member of staff.

Thorin pulled a disgusted face at the mess on the floor, but realised that Dis was right. Slowly, he went about cleaning it up, which caused him to retch some more as the smell assaulted his nose. Afterwards, having scrubbed the floor until the smell had gone, Thorin lay back down to try and get rid of his headache, and think through what he was going to say. The council would not take it lightly if he were to show up hungover, and would likely put his plan down to madness or the result of an ale addled mind. No, he would need his wits.

Just then a few women appeared carrying a large tub of hot water between them, along with scented oil and a note. Thorin thanked them, careful not to make sudden movements in case his headache, or his stomach, decided to misbehave again. The note was from Balin reminding him of the time and place of the meeting, as well as strict instructions to leave most of the talking to him.

Thorin grinned, thanking Mahal for having such a brilliant advisor, as he emptied the bottle of amber and cassis oil into the water. The steam smelled wonderful, and soothed his head a little as he stripped off his old clothes, climbing into the water with a sigh.

He rested his arms on the sides, leaning his head back and allowing his long braids to cascade down his chest and into the water. It felt good on his aching muscles, and did a lot to calm his befuddled mind, allowing him to focus on the reality of the situation. They needed to see him strong and quick, not drunk and slow; if the council went ill, Dwalin would pay. Marrying Dala had been the one thing to work towards since he had won back his mountain, and gotten his people settled.

Mind still in a lax state, Thorin found himself remembering the day before in the clearing, smiling to himself as he remembered her stoically refusing to lay with him. He had been annoyed at the time, being so aroused and so desperate to have her to himself; but he was – for the hundredth time since he'd met her – very glad she had defied him. He did not want to spoil her innocence, not yet, as it would ultimately take away from their wedding night. Also, it was possible she could have ended up with child, though neither of them had considered that at the time, and if the council should refuse his request…

Shaking his head, Thorin went back to thinking about her face as he'd touched her. The council could wait a while longer, as the memory of her moaning his name came flooding back. She had felt so wet and slick in his fingers, soft folds untouched, waiting for him to devour her entirely.

'Fuck,' he growled, as his erection became painfully hard. His heart beat faster, breaths coming a little quicker, as he judged how long he had before they would start looking for him.

The bottle of oil, having been stood upright for a while, had collected enough at the bottom to coat himself with – and that alone was enough to sway him. Gasping, he quickly squeezed the excess oil into his hands, and coated his thick length, moaning and cursing as he did so. His mind, ever his friend in these moments, provided him with the wonderful memory of her kneeling behind him, lightly muscled arms reaching around to take him in her hand and stroke him hard – the strokes so well timed, with exactly the right amount of pressure, it was as if she knew exactly how he liked it.

His hand sped up, the sound of water splashing with his movements, as well as his stifled moans and gasps and heavy breathing. Memory-Dala gently cupped his balls, rolling them in her nimble fingers, tugging gently as her other hand stroked, pulled and caressed his cock as if she couldn't get enough. He copied her movements with his other hand, reaching down to play with his balls, water splashing over the sides as he worked himself harder – voice husky and ragged still as he groaned, moaning out her name to the silent room.

His orgasm was building, his arousal too much for him to last very long, and soon he was thrusting into his hand as his cock began to twitch. Hips lifted out of the water and he had to clap his free hand over his mouth to stop him bellowing out his release, his seed spurting higher than he had thought possible before it landed in the water. Thorin relaxed back then, sated for the time being, and proceeded to wash himself properly. Once this had been accomplished, he felt a lot better and a little more like his usual self, dressing as regally as possible and schooling his features into a suitably dour expression. Today, he would come out successful.


	4. Chapter 4

**I have had this chapter half finished since January, so because I only just got the courage to post this Fic online (thanks to my sister) I have had to write the rest of it just now. I hope you like it. I will probably be focusing on Dwalin and Emmy in later chapters, because most of you seem to prefer them. If there is anything you would like to see happen, please message me with ideas! All reviews are appreciated.**

'…sick all over his bedroom floor,' said Balin, hands on his hips as he glared at his brother.

Dwalin, who still had not risen out of bed, simply laughed.

'S'not my fault he can't handle his drink,' he said thickly. He had not escaped a vomiting session either, though he was amused to find that he had at least been gifted with a little more dignity than the king.

Balin, however, was not amused. He continued to glare at Dwalin until a knock came at the door and a messenger stepped in, 'Mister Balin, the King awaits you in the council chambers.'

Balin nodded and the messenger left, before turning back to Dwalin, 'You had better hope this meeting goes as planned,' he said, a little more quietly. Dwalin made no answer as his brother added, 'Thorin may be your closest friend, but he will not forgive you if you have had a hand in messing this up. He loves that woman, Dwalin. I have never seen him so happy in all of my long life.'

When the door closed after his older sibling, Dwalin frowned. In truth, he had not thought of the meeting – not having been informed – and was therefore, technically, not to blame. Knowing Thorin, technicalities meant very little. Everything hinged on this meeting it seemed – Thorin's happiness…and Dwalin's friendship with him.

Mood now sufficiently black, Dwalin could not get back to sleep, and decided to get up and dressed. Today he had little to do, what with Kili spending his day hunting with Bifur, and Fili at the meeting as Thorin's heir. Other than that, Dwalin's duties consisted of training new volunteer recruits – of which they had none (something to do with his rather brutal teaching methods, apparently) – and patrolling the streets of dale when he 'had time', according to Thorin. Well, he thought as he grabbed his sword belt and axe, he had time now – and he needed to get outside and think.

The mountain was quiet when he left his rooms and headed off along the main tunnel leading out of Erebor, only passing a few sentries and one or two other inhabitants as he reached the enormous entrance. The meeting would be in full swing now, which meant most of Dain's men would be hanging around in the town, if they were not required to attend the meeting and help guard. This was not exactly welcome news to him, however. Competition among the guard was rife within their own ranks, let alone with the addition of foreigners.

When Dwalin finally stepped out into the hot sun, the heat prickled his skin after the cool darkness of Erebor. His clothes felt suddenly quite tight and restricting, and his armour heavy as he walked quickly along the road – heading for the already bustling town. Perhaps, if he was seen at his duties by enough people, he would be able to justify a trip to the tavern so early.

Cold ale was a blessing on days like this, he thought. However, as his head was still threatening to break out into another migraine, he may have to restrict his intake this time. As he passed the first stalls, the smells of roasting meat and burnt spices – coupled with the noise generated by the masses of people all crowding together in the streets – made him wonder if he had made the right decision in leaving his rooms. Towering above most of the dwarves around him he caught the scents more potently, though he did his best to keep his countenance as plain and grim as ever. He felt like crawling into a dark space and sleeping for the rest of the day. Except that would mean admitting defeat.

He kept his feet moving, his back to the sun as he followed the road around to the right. Nothing seemed amiss, and he had not yet seen any of Dain's men. Then without warning, a hand clapped him hard on the back.

He spun, eyes blazing, until he recognised the dwarf that stood a head or so shorter than him. Blain, a dwarf whom Dwalin had befriended when he had lived in the Blue Mountains, was smiling up at him pleasantly.

'Dwalin, my old pal!' he chuckled, smile widening until the long scar across his face pulled into a tight while line. 'It must have been near four years since I last set eyes on yeh'. How have you been?'

Dwalin planted the heel of his walking axe on the ground before leaning against it, arms crossed over the top, 'I've been well, though you caught me on a bad day I'm afraid.'

Blain chuckled, 'Ha, yes I heard about that. I don't think old Bronwen is too happy with you about now. She never did like it when you started throwing dwarves around in her tavern.'

'Ah, he deserved it.'

'I don't doubt it. Though there'll be repercussions,' said Blain, raising an eyebrow. It was very like the look Balin gave him that morning, and he fought the urge to snort and roll his eyes.

'Whatever he does, I'll match him. He doesn't even belong here,' answered Dwalin, rising up to his full height. Threats did not sit well with him, especially coming from someone outside his own kingdom. He only hoped there would be no trouble until Thorin's meeting was over though; he knew he was skating on thin ice as it was. Walloping the men of a council member, who would help decide whether to pass the new reformation, was not a very good idea.

The red haired dwarf shook his head, 'Well, you'll do as you please as always. Though I would like to know what got you so riled in the first place.'

Dwalin looked away from his friend's eyes as he replied, 'He was givin' hassle to one of the new bar maids. I didn't like it.'

'Oh really?' asked Blain, smirking. 'You threw a bloke out into the street for bad mouthing a serving lass? Seems a bit harsh.'

The heat was beginning to wear on his nerves, and he could feel himself becoming irritated at the obvious prying. He gave the other dwarf a hard look, 'she was as helpless as a child in there, Blain. I got carried away, that's all. Though speaking of serving lasses, how is your Garna? The last I heard she was near to birthin' that babe of yours.'

With the subject firmly away from his own private life, Dwalin relaxed. He had done his best not to remember that particular part of the night, preferring to shove those feelings to the back of his mind where they would not be so much of a pest. She was not what he wanted…not at all…but he could not help his eyes following her around the room last night. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide and a little fearful, flicking from place to place frantically as she struggled to remember who had ordered what.

They landed on him a couple of times too and jolts of adrenaline had sparked inside his chest, but he had forced himself to get a grip. He would not swoon like a maid, not for all the gold in Erebor.

Just as Blain took his leave a few minutes later, Dwalin heard a cheer go up from further along the road. Continuing on, following the sounds of merriment deeper into the town itself, he came across a large gathering outside the tavern, in the centre of which stood two dwarves. One Dwalin recognised as Loni, one of the newer recruits to the guard, but the other he had never seen in his life. As he drew closer, his size enabling him to cut through the crowd more easily, he saw that the stranger was young, probably younger than Loni, and wearing the copper and gold coloured tunic of the Iron Hills – both were advancing quickly.

Alarm bells rang in his head immediately, and he begun shoving people out of the way to get between them – but he was too late. The younger dwarf just managed to duck what could have been a serious blow, though that did not stop Loni from taking a few more swings. His sword was wooden Dwalin was relieved to see, but it could still do some damage and after hitting the Iron born a couple of times, Dwalin managed to drag the sword out of his student's hand.

Loni looked up at him, surprise and terror on his face. Dwalin was furious, 'What the hell do you think you're doing!?'

The younger dwarf sagged, 'He spoke ill of the king, mister Dwalin! I would not stand for it.'

From the crowd came muffled laughter, indicating that the lad's words were most likely true. He looked up to find five other copper and gold clad dwarves smirking and eyeing him coldly, though none of them moved to help their kinsman.

Turning back to Loni, Dwalin shoved the wooden weapon back into his hands.

'Take it and go back to the training field, which is where you should be. Or do you still need me to babysit you?' asked Dwalin, cocking his head to the side. Loni shook his head quickly. 'Good. Now get out of my sight.'

He waited until Loni a few of the other's left, before turning on the Iron born. He was bruised, with a cut lip and bruising that had already begun to discolour the skin on his arms. The rest of the crowd had begun to disperse once the show was over, including the young lads friends, so it was up to him to make sure he saw a healer.

'Get up,' he commanded, folding his arms across his chest. The lad stood slowly, smirk gone from his face, though he did not meet Dwalin's eyes once. 'It is not wise to speak ill of our king before his own guard, lad. You should mind your tongue in future, or I might wait a bit longer until I intervene next time.'

The Iron born made no answer, but looked pointedly at the ground. Dwalin sighed and took him firmly by the arm, 'You're going to see the healer, then I'm taking you back to the mountain personally.' He was just a cocky youth, but insults made upon his closest friend annoyed him enough to spare him any feelings of sympathy for the young lad. He would have to earn the respect of his peers another way, it seemed.

The young dwarf did not resist, walking calmly back up the street until they came to the open door of the Healer's hut. The air was smoky when they entered, and it was hard to see very far in front of their faces, but it was clear that there were two occupants of the small, cluttered room. Herbs hung from the ceiling in front of the dirty windows, and the shelves were stacked with jars of salves, ointments and potions of all varieties. With such a dense atmosphere, the heat was even worse and, after shoving the lad into the path of the unoccupied healer, Dwalin took the opportunity to sit.

His headache, which had been threatening to return ever since he had gotten out of bed, was now back with ferocity and it was having a bigger effect on him than he cared to admit. This was the reason he did not see her sitting there, not at least until he had collapsed in exhaustion onto the nearest bench, hands moving to massage his temples in an effort to rid himself of the pain.

'Are you ok there?' asked a gentle voice from his immediate right, and he flinched visibly before whipping his head around to see who had – for the second time that day – startled him suddenly.

He almost recoiled when he looked into those slate grey eyes again, the same ones he had been trying to forget all day. She was watching him with concern, thought it was entirely possible his face looked pale and his eyes tired after the night he'd had, and it took him a few moment until his eyes adjusted to the gloom before he could see her face clearly.

Her skin was still fair, and her hair still soft and dark, but the nasty cut across her left cheek caught his eye. Without thinking, he reached up to touch the mark and the action made her freeze. He pulled his hand away, shocked at his own behaviour not for the first time in that twenty four hour period, and closed his eyes.

He needed to get his head together and snap out of it. She was only a girl.

'I'm sorry,' he said, gruffly. 'I didn't mean to scare you.'

Emmy paused for a moment, before shaking her head, 'You didn't scare me. I only wondered if you were alright? You don't look well.'

'Ah, don't mind that. It's nothing,' he answered, waving his hand dismissively. 'Though that cut on your cheek looks quite deep. How did it happen?'

She shrunk back a little and turned her gaze over to where the Iron born was being treated, 'I spilled two tankards of ale and slipped on the floor. It was bound to happen one day.'

Dwalin pressed his lips together, 'Is that so?' though the way her face grew a shade paler after his question made him wonder if she was hiding something. Truth be told, it looked more like a graze than a cut, but he dared not voice his opinions aloud. 'You should take more care, lass. Are you being treated?'

Emmy nodded, 'Gani is mixing a salve for me, since it was starting to swell. Then I'll have to get back.'

He felt adrenaline surge in his blood again, spiking in his chest around his heart. She was so small, too small almost for a dwarf lass – and the sight of her blood, stark red against her skin, made him angry. He would keep an eye on her, he decided. Just in case she _was_ being hit. He told himself it was for this reason and this reason alone.

By the time Gani had arrived with the finished salve, the Iron born was finished being patched up as well. Dwalin held the door for her, shoving the Iron born back when he tried to exist first, and followed her out into the open air. It was still hot, though it had passed mid-day now and the air was cleaner.

Emmy had turned to leave when Dwalin heard himself call her back, 'Wait,' he'd said, taking a step towards her retreating figure. She turned, eyeing him warily, and waited for him to speak. He could not let her walk away from him, not with knowing when he would have a chance to speak to her properly again. Something about her spiked his curiosity and he knew it would bug him unless he did something about it.

Glancing towards the tavern he asked, 'Do you work every night?'

She shook her head, 'I have tomorrow evening off, though I have to help out through the day. I get paid extra, then.'

He reached up to stroke his beard subconsciously, 'Dale is quiet on an evening, but the mountain is a different story all together. Perhaps you'd like to see it?'

Emmy raised her head a little higher at that, 'Erebor? Well, of course I would. I've never stepped foot inside of it.' Her lips quirked upwards into a half smile as she added, 'they say the lower halls are piled with gold and gems.'

Dwalin chuckled, 'How about I meet you outside the tavern at sundown, and you can see for yourself?'

'Y- you'd take me?' she asked hesitantly. She was clearly still wary of him, not that it surprised him after his display. It was hastily becoming one of his biggest regrets, what with the trouble between the two guards, and the fact that he'd pissed the surly tavern owner off.

Despite himself, Dwalin smiled, 'Yeah, I'll take yeh. I've got night patrol then anyway, though I'll make sure to have you back here before it gets too rowdy.'

Red flushed the skin of her cheeks, but this time it was not due to the cut. The spike of adrenaline grew a little painful that time, as he watched her reactions keenly.

'Ok, I'll meet you at seven,' she replied. 'Aunt Bronwen will want me back before midnight.'

Dwalin froze, '_Aunt_ Bronwen?'

'Yes. How else do you suppose I still have a job?'

He recovered himself enough to smile and agree to meet her at seven, before she left to return to the tavern, and he to Erebor. The Iron born had been standing silent all that time, no doubt listening to their every word and making plans to spread his gossip around.

Dwalin could not pin down his emotions at that moment, feeling a curious mixture of elated and worried. No one had ever noticed the tavern owner's niece before, certainly not when they lived in the Blue Mountains, not even in their first two years back in their rightful Kingdom. So where had she come from? Why had no one heard of her before? But most importantly of all, why had she paled at his mention of her cut?

Something was wrong and, though he barely knew the girl and had sworn not to accept his feelings, the truth was too obvious to ignore. He was fascinated by her and he wanted to know more.


	5. Chapter 5

**After getting so many lovely reviews, I decided to give you an update a little sooner than I anticipated. This story isn't planned out, I prefer to write things as they come to me, but I have a vague idea as to what will happen to the characters in the end. **

**Please continue to review, but more importantly, continue to enjoy the story! **

Silence in the council chamber stretched on, and no one was very willing to break it. It was the kind of silence that caused a deep feeling of anxiety in the pit of the stomach, almost like waiting, except Thorin in this instance did not know if he was waiting for something good or bad.

The room was large and square, the rock walls sharp and jagged where hundreds of picks and axes had carved the mountain hollow, and the shiny flat surfaces glinted with the flicker of fifteen torches. It was this that Thorin chose to focus on as Dain read through the terms that Balin had prepared, outlining the obscure law he had found that allowed for changes to the old system, so long as they were left in place for fifty years. It was a huge leap, one that he had spent months thinking over, worrying about, _dreading_. His hopes, everything he had worked for over the past few months could be wasted in a matter of moments. If Dain did not agree, there would be no wedding.

His eyes shifted away from the glittering walls, finding Balin's amid the cluster of people around the large table. The older dwarf's lips twitched at the corner, the merest hint of a smile, both encouraging and comforting at the same time. He could not bring himself to respond, the muscles in his face no longer under his control as his stomach churned. Since his shameful display of drunkenness that morning his stomach had settled, only twinging when he had to stand, which was thankfully not all that often. Now though he felt the same nauseating roll inside him, causing his hands to shake and his brow to become slick with sweat. No one was looking at him, all eyes trained on the document laid flat upon the polished stone, and for that he was grateful. He looked and felt terrible, but it was close to being over now. So close, and then he would see her again.

Suddenly, Dain looked up from the paper and directly at the king. Thorin fought hard not to jump, cursing himself for letting his anxiety show, and schooled his expression into a polite nonchalance.

Dain sighed, 'It appears you have done your research, Thorin. The laws can be changed, it seems, but I must ask you something before I give you my answer.' He leaned back in his seat, eyeing the king curiously. 'Tradition has served us well in the past, and there are some that would not look upon these changes with a sympathetic eye. Why take such a risk?'

A murmur of agreement preceded this, and every face then turned to look at Thorin, waiting patiently for his answer. It was not clear where Dain stood yet, at least not to him, and it was a few moments before he could put together an answer. He felt sick, exhausted and utterly tired of sitting around, waiting for other people to decide his fate. He was a king! Why should he explain himself to anyone!?

A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he looked once again to Balin. His advisor lifted his chin a couple of inches, eyes boring into the King's, urging him to remain calm – which was something he was not well suited too. Thorin felt threatened, caged like a beast in his own kingdom and his captors were waiting for him to make the wrong move – but Balin _was_ right, he had to stay calm.

He breathed out, relaxed his posture, and finally returned Balin's earlier half-smile. There was only one answer to Dain's question, 'Is it not also traditional to love your intended?' he asked, looking around at them all. 'Fortune, alliances and politics aside, love is the first most basic requirement of a real, true marriage. We forget these things in our haste to better ourselves, to make fortunate unions that will increase our power, and if I have learned anything from my quest to reclaim this mountain, it is that the simpler things in life – cheer, goodwill, and friendship, are the things that really matter when it comes down to it. If we forged our associations on those things, instead of empty vows and forced marriages, we may find ourselves richer than we ever dreamed.'

Murmurs broke out again as the council members reacted to his speech. Some were nodding and shrugging, their faces contemplating his words with looks of surprise, as well as wonder. There were also those that spoke together in whispers, eyes darting back and forth between both king's, expressions either outraged or full of contempt. Thorin expected this. Change did not come easily to dwarves, especially over matters what would affect more than just Erebor. Though it was fairly minor in the grander scheme of things, it was still something that no one had expected so soon after the war. It had only been seven years since the reclamation after all.

Finally, Thorin turned to Dain. The king of the Iron Hills was silent, eyes still trained on Thorin, though it appeared as though they looked straight through him. As the volume in the room crept up, the noise bouncing around the room with nowhere to escape, Dain closed his eyes and got to his feet slowly.

Everyone stopped talking immediately, though the three in the corner who had been whispering together still looked ruffled, and stared up at Dain. This was it. Thorin knew that the others would back Dain's answer whether it was for or against Thorin's wishes, so everything rested on the other king's decision.

Thorin was glad he was seated as nausea rolled inside his stomach again, and beneath the table one hand came to rest over it soothingly. His other hand was clenched tightly into a fist, knuckles white, the only way he could keep it from shaking.

'If this should go ill, you will shoulder the blame?' he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Thorin felt his heart beating furiously as he nodded, 'I will.'

Dain nodded and looked at his advisor, who – like Balin had done for him – give his king an encouraging smile.

'If this be the case then I, Dain son of Nain and King of the Iron Hills, agree to this change of our legal system,' he said, before looking to his left.

Thorin managed to keep his composure as, one by one, each of the council members gave their agreement – some grudgingly. He dared not allow his happiness show, though he could not help the smile on his face as the last person declared their agreement. All at once, the nerves and churning in his stomach disappeared, leaving behind a sense of calm which allowed his heart to return back to normal.

Once the other council members left, Thorin approached Dain and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'You have my thanks, my friend.'

Dain placed his other hand on Thorin's shoulder, 'What you said was the truth, though I meant what I said about you taking the blame should anything happen. You must have seen how some of them reacted to your request. I do not think it is over yet.'

Thorin looked at him seriously, 'Once they see that nothing bad will happen, they will calm down. I mean to set an example, to show them that not all change is unwelcome.'

The other smiled genuinely, 'That sounds like a large undertaking. I wish you luck.'

* * *

The heat of the afternoon beat down onto her back, causing her white, wispy hair to cling to her forehead. Her apprentice worked by her side, fitting tiny gemstones into the lockets, necklaces and rings that they were crafting, and occasionally looking up to check that she was still on the right track. The girl was learning slowly, improving her technique and her pace every day, but it would be a long time before she was able to run the store herself. That thought was not a happy one; especially not now that she herself had reached her one hundred and twelfth year. The stall had been her life ever since her mother had died more than sixty years ago, and she wanted to know it would be taken care of after she herself took the final journey from this world.

Calzadi had been the jeweller before the fall of Erebor, and coming back after so many years made her realise how much she'd missed it. The bustling town, the warmer climate, and the looming shadow of the mountain that reminded her of the one reason she had bothered to make the journey back from the Blue Mountains. She could have stayed there where it was safe, comfortable and where she had a good client base. Most of the women had not yet set out for Erebor when she had packed her things and made the journey, none of them wanted to risk it after the attempted raids and numerous attacks the goblins made when they thought the dwarves were weak. Her journey had been treacherous certainly, and they were not a day from the mountain when a cold tried to take her life – but she had held on.

She lifted her eyes when she heard a commotion coming from the right, a few feet away, and felt her pulse quicken when she heard people whisper that the king was coming. Her hand clenched tightly around the newly made necklace she had been about to wrap and her breathing became a little laboured, drawing the attention of her apprentice.

'Mistress! Mistress are you ok!?' she asked worriedly, wrapping a much stronger arm around her shoulders.

Calzadi recovered enough to chuckle lightly, 'Do not worry about me, Muna. Those rings need special attention, the gems must be set exactly or the metal will not hold them in place.'

Muna looked unconvinced, but nodded obediently. She went back to her work, quickly becoming ensconced in it once more. Calzadi dragged a stool closer to the work station, carefully wrapping the necklace in the fine tissue paper, before placing it gently into the box.

Her eyes kept watching the road as she worked mechanically, only half focusing on her task, until she saw the king approaching swiftly. Dain was with him, the two deep in discussion as they passed, though a couple of paces past the stall they came to a sudden halt.

Calzadi inched her head around, trying to discover the reason for this, and her chest gave a painful throb when she saw the reason. He stood a lot taller than when she'd last seen him, taller and broader even than-

Shaking her head, Calzadi rid herself of that thought before it took hold. Dwalin stood, holding a younger dwarf by the back of his tunic, and appeared to be growling something at Dain. Calzadi could not help but smile, before she allowed her eyes to trail slowly down the line of guards. Where the king went,_ he_ would surely follow.

And her hunch was right.

At the end of the line, conversing happily with a dwarf she had never seen before, Calzadi caught sight of Balin. Her lungs immediately deflated, letting out a breath she had not realised she was holding, and watched as he wandered closer and closer.

The noise of the street, the chatter, the sound of the carts and ponies passing by, seemed to fade in that moment as he approached. His image got clearer, the feeble wind died in its tracks as everything narrowed down to him for one blinding moment. Erebor could have collapsed, Smaug could have come again, yet nothing would have arrested her attention away from his form for one moment.

He passed by, his voice aged slightly in the years he'd spent away, but she would know that sound anywhere – bold, gravelly and strong. It was a fleeting moment, he was there right in front of her, within touching distance, and then he was gone. He did not look at her.

Normally this would have left her feeling hollow, and it would have again, had she not noticed the thick-banded, sterling silver ring on the smallest finger of his left hand. Her eyes widened impossibly, breath once again leaving her in a whoosh of air, and she had to lean forward a little to get it back. She had never seen that ring before, not since she had given it to his guard that night, a mere three months before the attack on Erebor.

A shuffling of feet told her that the group had begun to move on, deeper into the town, though she did not spare them a glance. Replacing the boxed necklace back onto the work station, Calzadi sat back on her stool and allowed the memories to flood her mind's eye.

It was his strength that had caught her attention, as well as his long, thick beard that he'd twisted into intricate braids. He was renowned back then, fierce and bold in battle, but kind to almost everyone he met. Including her.

A few times he'd come to her stall, and she'd made him numerous beautiful things that he'd often praise her for – beads, buckles, brooches and occasionally gifts. He'd grin and comment on every single one, before bowing low and taking his leave. She looked forward to their every meeting, talking a little longer each time as they grew more familiar, but he would always walk away afterwards – without looking back. It hurt, she'd cried a few times, but she had never really expected him to think otherwise. He was friend to the king, a warrior and far, far above her own station. They would never be together.

Perhaps it was this thought that encouraged her to work so hard on the ring.

Whenever she got the chance to be alone, Calzadi would take the little circlet of silver out of it's box – hidden beneath the floorboards of her own room – and work on it, fitting hundreds of tiny gemstones into the band. Jade for protection, Moonstone to reunite them, and Amber for healing – keeping her mind busy and away from painful thoughts.

Once it was done, she waited for night to fall before slipping it to one of the guards – telling him it had come from an anonymous dwarf, a gift.

When weeks went by and it had not been sent back, she took it as a good sign. He had kept it at least, and now she knew that he wore it as well.

A curse, followed by a sound suspiciously similar to that of a gemstone being dropped into the floor, caused her to sigh. Muna apologised, blushing hard, and did not look up from her work again. Calzadi shook her head, but did not have the heart to scold the girl. She looked back towards the mountain, and spotted the group heading back up the gravelled road – back to where they belonged.

Despite the announcement made by the king, Calzadi knew that there would always be a line drawn between those with power, status and money – and those without. The king could do what he liked, it was part of being king she supposed, but it was too late for her. Balin, son of Fundin, would never know who had sent him the ring on his little finger. He would never have to face the awkward, painful practise of letting her down – and neither would she. Her ring was the only claim she had over him, small and insignificant as it was, and it eventually became enough for her to live with.

'Perhaps,' she whispered, quoting the words she'd written on the note she'd sent to him, along with the ring. Her throat closed, grief had a way of doing that when you least expected it to. She watched his retreating back, in an echo of all those times she'd watched him walk away from her before, and took another deep breath. 'Perhaps we could have been. In another lifetime.'

**I'd like to thank 'Empress of Cornwall' for the idea about Balin's unrequited love, something which I hadn't considered writing before. As she quite rightly said, it sweetens the joy of the other happy couples. **


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: **Here is the next chapter guys, a little longer than usual. I really hope you like it and continue to review! Also, those who have PM'd me, I will take your ideas into consideration, though some of them may turn out to be oneshots. I think I can do them better justice with a story of their own :)**

**Also, please be patient between the uploading of chapters. I have University assignments and exams coming up, so uploads may be slower. However, I will NOT be abandoning this story! I am having waaay too much fun with the characters, and there is a lot of stuff still to come. **

**As ever, enjoy! **

The cellar was the coolest place she could find at that time of the day, though the smell of damp, dust and ale filled her nose and caught the back of her throat. The room was large, filled with barrels and barrels of that sour smelling drink that the dwarf men loved, but to her smelled no more appetizing than the foul ointment the healer had prescribed for her cut. She rolled an empty barrel to the back of the room towards the back doors, ready for the wine merchants and traders to take back to Mirkwood to be refilled. This had been her task for most of the day, and the day before, and given the amount of cold ale they were dishing out to the parched and sweating soldiers, tradesmen and farmers, they would soon be running out.

Looking around, she wondered how long their supply would last. If they ran out of barrels, her uncle ran out of patience, and they would have to move away again. _Not yet! Please. Not yet._ She thought, lifting a hand up to where the cut throbbed on her cheek.

Emmy could still feel the ghost of the hand that had torn her face open, as well as the biting, hate fuelled words that had accompanied them. _Brat. _That's what he'd called her when she'd finished her shift for the night. He had seen the tall warrior, and watched in fury as he had thrown the Iron Born out by the scruff of his neck. _Lose me any more customers, girl, and you'll find yourself joinin' 'em out on them streets!_

Part of her wished she _was_ out there and away from the tavern, free of her uncle, free to look and speak to whomever she liked. The rabble in the tavern unnerved her, made her hands shake and spill the wine if one of the nastier ones made a comment about her small frame, her soft skin, or her frightened eyes.

Though the cellar was walled on all sides by thick stone, there were a number of small, barred windows near the ceiling that allowed her a chance to look out into the market streets without being seen. Taking a small box, previously filled with apples come straight down the river, Emmy stood and managed to see a sliver of the street if she stood on her tiptoes. It was bustling, crowded and heavy with the smell of roasting meats, smoke and dung as mules and ponies bearing carts loaded with goods ambled by. The road she saw was the main one leading right through the town, curving away to the right just before it reached the forest, and back on itself so that it was shaped like an enormous U. The butchers and the spice-dealers were on the left, shouting things to tempt passers-by and smiling their false smiles. To the left, children played in the fountain and the tannery displayed the finished leathers at the front of the shop, right opposite the healer's rooms. No one so much as looked her way, not even the littlest children that sat at the sides of the main road, heaping mud into a large pile, and mixing it with the water from the well to make pies.

However, it was neither the street nor the people in it that interested her. As her eyes found the sky, she sought out the position of the sun and made a very rough guess as to the time of day. Her aunt had allowed her to go to the mountain that night, and her uncle was non-the-wiser. So long as she left quickly and quietly, she would be able to keep her promise to new friend, Dwalin.

It was later than she thought; the sun – though still warm enough to break a sweat – was swiftly setting away to her right, behind the mountain, causing a long shadow that crept further and further east – swallowing the town whole in its might. Emmy welcomed it, relishing the cooler air on her skin, as well as the promise of freedom it brought. She always felt braver when it was dark, and something had to be said for the rush of excitement in the blood when the blue of the sky vanished to lay bare the full majesty of the heavens.

She shivered, thinking of how amazing the lonely mountain would seem by night, as well as the things her new friend would be able to tell her. Dwalin seemed an unlikely friend for her, she mused as she climbed back down from the window. He was big, muscled and battle-hardened, with a gruff manner and growly voice that she thought made him sound like a bear, similar to the ones she'd heard fighting some nights during her travels further west of Mirkwood, deep in the forests under the full moon. _They'd_ scared her too, their voices seeming to echo through the trees long after they'd passed on, until the sound was just a wisp of a memory from the deep green lands.

The difference was that the bears had not noticed her listening to their growling, and had not caught her scent on the wind as she travelled through their territory. Emmy could still feel Dwalin's eyes on her back as she'd walked away from him yesterday afternoon, curious eyes that saw through her, that had bothered to take note of the small, frightened creature residing right beneath his shadow. When he'd asked her if she'd like to see the mountain, she had not even thought of saying no. It had been a source of mystery to her ever since they arrived, but of course, uncle would not hear of her going to see it. They had no business in Erebor, he would say. The king was nothing to them. They would stay until he thought to move them on. And they always moved. Always.

Perhaps Mahal had heard one of her prayers this time though, when he threw her into this great bear's path. Her aunt had thought so when she had told her of Dwalin's offer, and showed her a means to escape her uncle's clutches for one night. Despite his growling and his fighting, Dwalin had been concerned for her and kind when others had only laughed and scorned. It was a risk, that she knew, but perhaps it was a risk worth taking.

Her aunt called her from above, signalling another empty barrel in need of rolling down to the back doors. She stood and sighed, If she did not put her trust in someone, she would spend the rest of her life rolling barrels in her uncles cellar, like a mouse rolls a block of cheese across the kitchen floor. Hidden, tiny and unimportant to anyone.

She needed a bear to make her stronger. She needed a friend like Dwalin.

* * *

The chilling air that permeated the walls of rock surrounding his chambers felt good after his last patrol around the village that day. It had been uneventful for once, no fighting or squabbling for him to break up, though there was definitely something amiss. He had felt it in his bones and it made him more vigilant, as if someone were watching him from the shadows between the closely-built houses and stalls.

Unbuckling his belt, Dwalin laid his sword and axe down on a side table, before moving towards the basin filled with fresh cold water. He splashed it over his face a few times, clearing himself of the heat and sweat that still lingered there, and changed into something a little less scruffy. Thorin had talked of nothing but his success, and the celebratory feast he was hosting, for most of the night before. The feast was to be held just after sundown, the invitations limited to close friends, family and honoured guests, though Dwalin had already planned to slip away before the ale began to take his wits again. He needed his wits tonight, especially after what he'd felt in the market town.

With a last glance around his room, Dwalin left and headed straight for the feast, arriving just after Bombur as he made his way towards Thorin and his betrothed. The king grinned when he saw his oldest friend, 'There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever show yourself tonight.'

Dwalin chuckled, 'And miss this feast you've been prattling on about? I don't think so.' He turned and bowed to Dala then, and watched as her cheeks flushed at the gesture. She was not at all used to being treat like the king's intended. 'My lady.'

Thorin gave him a clap on the shoulder as he moved on, deeper into the room. The table in the centre was laden with foods of all kinds of meats: beef, chicken, mutton, lamb, as well as various dishes that Bombur had prepared to suit the guests from Dain's Kingdom. As Dwalin passed, some of the Iron Born dwarves moved aside, lowering their voices to whispers, while others paid him no heed at all. All at once the feeling came back to him, the same feeling he had experienced before in the town. There was something wrong. Very wrong. How did no one else feel it?

'Mister Dwalin!' came a voice to his left, causing him to turn and glare murderously into the eyes of Kili.

The young lad stepped back when he saw the ferocity there, hands raised in surrender, 'Wow, no need to glare so. I only wanted to invite you over for a drink with me and the lads.'

The warrior shook his head, ridding himself of his ridiculous suspicions. He was a hardened soldier, not some paranoid old crone. _Get a grip! _He told himself.

'Don't mind me, lad. It's been a rough day,' he said, relaxing his posture a bit. The muscles in his shoulders ached when he allowed them to drop, which suggested that they'd been tensed for a long while. 'An ale would be a welcome thing about now.'

Kili grinned good-naturedly, 'We've taken seats at the back there. We've already stared though, I think Bofur's had enough for three dwarves put together!'

Dwalin followed his chattering student all the way to the back of the room, where he found Fili, Bofur, Gloin and Ori laughing loudly at something Bofur had just said. When they saw him they beckoned him over, forcing a mug of ale into his hands.

Bofur continued his earlier speech, 'So anyway, there were three of them surroundin' 'er as she danced, and every so often I'd see one of 'em make a grab for 'er arse.'

'You said there were five!' Ori broke in, holding up one hand for clarification.

Bofur shook his head, 'Yeah five, whatever. That's not the point! The point is, I sent 'em runnin' when I knocked the leader out! Big bugger 'ee was an' all!'

Gloin banged his tankard on the table top and guffawed, 'Good on yeh' lad! Been givin' a few o' the dancin' girls hassel them lads! Dunno why they don't just bugger off home!'

Dwalin sat a little straighter, 'They were Dain's men?'

Bofur nodded, 'Aye, just like the one you threw outta the tavern the other night.' He took a long drink from his tankard, wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and appeared to be thinking quite hard. 'Been causin' havoc since they arrived, them lot. Dunno why Thorin puts up with it.'

Dwalin looked around, making sure they none of the Iron Born dwarves in question were within hearing range.

'Thorin puts up with them coz he has to. I don't like 'em neither, but it won't be long till they're gone,' he said, keeping his voice low. 'Even so, I think we should keep an eye on them. I've seen the way they look at me, and how they talk about our king when his back is turned. Caught one yesterday fightin' with one of our new lads over a snide comment.'

Fili narrowed his eyes, 'What comments?'

'He didn't say. Got a good beatin' for his troubles though,' he said, feeling oddly proud of his feisty new recruits, even if they do go against his orders at times.

Once the hall had been filled the doors were closed and Thorin took his place at the top of the table, Dala standing at his right side. This was the cue for everyone else to take their places, the long table divided on either side between Iron Born's and Thorin's own men, which spoke volumes to Dwalin as his eyes came to rest on their leader. Thorin was dressed splendidly, displaying the wealth of Erebor in his finest garments and jewel encrusted sword belt, Orcrist hanging deadly and sleek at his side. His betrothed was dressed a little plainer, though the tunic she wore was the same royal blue as the kings. She had to look the part, at least.

'Welcome, friends and kinsmen,' he began, blue eyes searching each of their faces in turn. They lingered a heartbeat longer upon the face of one particular dwarf, sitting half way down the table on the Iron Born side, and the look that passed between them was chilling even from an onlooker's perspective. 'Tonight, I bid you join me in a feast to celebrate the great change that has taken place in our legal system, as well as my upcoming marriage. For your support, and your acceptance, I thank you personally and offer you the hospitality of the mountain as long as you are guests here.'

A cheer broke out and Dwalin joined in as Thorin took his seat, gesturing for the feast to finally begin. The food was hot and filling, the ale cold and a balm for nerves, yet Dwalin could not enjoy it as he once could. The hall rang with noise, plates clashing, people shouting and talking loudly so as to be heard over the din. He joined in for a while, thinking it could be just the stress of the day, though as the evening wore on his fears only grew. As the shadows lengthened outside so did the shadow within him, it's black tendrils coiling in his belly until it moved further and further towards his heart.

His fist tightened around his mug of ale as he watched two Iron Born dwarves laughing at something he did not hear, though his mind told him it was a plot of some dark description. Dain himself was unaware, face serene and untroubled as he chatted quietly to Thorin and Dala at the head of the table, undisturbed by the groups of dwarves in twos and threes as their eyes passed across the food, over the ale and right into the kings eyes.

'_By Aulë_, Dwalin! What is wrong with you tonight?' asked Gloin, who had been talking to him without receiving an answer for the past five minutes. 'If you grip that tankard any tighter it'll shatter. And why are you glaring at poor Ori!?'

Dwalin shook his head to rid himself of his fear and blinked, noticing the little scribe peering at him warily from the seat opposite. He sighed, closing his eyes, and made his decision to leave right then. Something had taken a hold of him, and it would likely end in bloodshed if he remained cooped up with these foreigners any longer. He had no quarrel with Dain himself, but his councillors were different, and the way they stared at Thorin made his blood run cold.

'I'm sorry, Gloin, Ori,' he said, rising from his seat. 'I have watch, and a promise to keep. Though if you wouldn't mind, keep an eye on them Iron Born's will yeh? I think Bofur was right when he said they're stirring up trouble. Watch them.'

Gloin's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he nodded all the same. 'Aye lad, I'll watch them. They'll be gone soon though, like you said.'

_Aye, the sooner the better, _he thought. He nodded in reply and made for the back exit, not trusting himself to walk so close to Dain's councillors without clipping one round the ear. As soon as the door closed behind him, Dwalin sighed and leaned back against the stone. It was ice cold and wonderful for his aching head and raw nerves.

He had wound himself up into a frenzy, and now he was starting to look soft in front of his companions by running out in the middle of the kings feast. Was there really something to fear? Wouldn't Balin have noticed first? His older brother had always been keen of sight and hearing, especially where Thorin was concerned. Surely the glares, the whispers and the general hostile atmosphere whenever the Iron Born were close had not slipped his notice?...Or had it? The quest had been long and dangerous, the things he'd seen and done were more than most had accomplished in a lifetime and he was not getting younger. Was this age? Was this was it had felt like for Balin when he knew his warriors title was slipping away to dust?

Was he really _that_ old?

'There you are,' said the king. Thorin was closing the door Dwalin had exited, against the sound of merriment that still sounded behind him. 'I saw you leave. What is the matter?'

Dwalin stood straighter, 'I have the watch tonight. Can't be gettin' too drunk.'

The king raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, looking into Dwalin's face. Thorin was good at spotting lies, especially among his friends and kin, so it was no surprise when he shook his head, 'If you have something to say then say it, Dwalin.'

It was no use. He was not going to escape until the king had heard the truth, and it was not something he would want to hear. He cursed himself silently for not leaving immediately when he had the chance, 'That young lad of Dain's I brought to you yesterday is one of many that speak about you behind your back. They're causing havoc in the town, makin' work for me and my lads, and what's more I don't like the way they look at me, or any of us for that matter. They don't like this change, Thorin. They may yet try to put a stop to your marriage.'

Thorin listened in silence, and allowed the silence to stretch a few minutes after Dwalin had finished. He was just about to ask for leave to return to his watch when Thorin finally spoke, 'Dain said it was not over,' he murmured to no one in particular. Dwalin frowned, then Thorin's eyes met his firmly, 'This is just talk, nothing more. They are set to leave as soon as the wedding is over, so let us hope they do not turn those words into actions before then.'

Dwalin's face grew darker, 'And if they do?'

The king's voice was cold as he replied, 'This mountain is mine, and I will rule it as I see fit. The law has changed, Dain has agreed to it, and if anyone wishes to challenge it they are welcome to try.' Unconsciously, his hand found the hilt of Orcrist.

* * *

Hushed voices could be heard behind the wooden door, the sounds muffled and hushed, which suggested they the owners were sitting deeper in the room. Emmy was already wearing a fur cloak, the bottom skimming the floor as she padded quietly towards the side exit of the tavern. It was cold at night and the mountain was made of rock, any heat that it had retained throughout the day would have vanished into the night air by now.

Bronwen had kept her word, the smell of wine and ale was strong even from the other side of the door, and the slow, slurred speech of her uncle could be heard if she pressed her ear against the wood._ Good_, she thought. Drink was the only thing that worked her uncle's sharp senses into a dull, dim-witted state, enough for her to creep out into the quiet street of Dale without rousing his suspicions. Her aunt had promised her a clean exit, and she had gotten one, all she needed to do now was wait for him to arrive.

The night was clear and quiet, darkness creeping thickly from between the stone buildings on all sides, even the road ahead was hidden by the black shroud of night after a while. Her hair blew in the wind, causing her cloak to flap and her arms to rise in gooseflesh, her small body shivering in the chill. _A real dwarf woman would not be so weak as to feel the cold, _is what her uncle would have said. But her uncle was not there, no one was, the night had hidden her from their japes and she could be as strong as she liked. Ahead the mountain loomed, its bulk was even blacker than the black that surrounded her, it peak spiking into the sky like the point of a jagged sword. What wonders lay in wait behind its thick walls? How deep had they delved before the dragon had come? What did the world look like when you stood on one of those vast balconies, looking down upon the small spattering of houses and shops, all clamouring to hide in the shadow of the rock? Everything, big or small, seemed so important when you were among the hustle and bustle of life in the town. Every bar fight, every stolen wheel of cheese, every cruel jest and petty insult built up inside you until it was all you thought about. Did it really matter though, in the grand scheme of things? When you stood high up on that balcony, the one nestled in a corner between two sharp rock walls in the centre of the main face of the mountain, didn't the town just look like fallen leaves on a forest floor? Weren't the people just ants toing and froing, going about their small lives, living as best they could until their time came?

What did a mountain care about her stupid uncle, or her cut face? She was one in a million little ants, and would die along with them long before the mountain fell into its own ruin.

The thought made her sad, yet hopeful at the same time. She was a mouse, not an ant, and she had a bear to keep her safe now. Or so she hoped. A shadow loomed ahead of her, much closer than the mountain, and she started backwards until a hand shot out and caught her around the shoulders.

'Watch y'self,' he growled, and suddenly his face came into view. The night was dark, but the stars and waxing moon provided enough light to make out Dwalin's features. He was half smiling, though a crease appeared between his eyes as they scanned her face and alighted on her cheek. 'How's your cut?'

Emmy breathed a little quicker, though she was not sure why, 'Healed, thank you for asking.'

He released her as soon as she was standing on her own again, before casting his gaze up and down the street behind her. She thought she saw apprehension in his features, but when he turned back it was only the darkness that had made it seem so.

'We have to hurry. I left the newest one posted at the topmost balcony, and I'd sooner have him back to his own station,' he said and beckoned her to follow him.

Leaving Dale, coupled with the adrenaline she felt when walking around at night, made her grin as they walked. The road was unlit and a little daunting, so she shuffled a little closer to Dwalin and made sure to keep her eyes focused on where she was walking. The nearer they got, the clearer she began to see small stabs of twinkling light every so often, like tiny jewels embedded in the dark mass, a mirror of the sky above them. Up ahead she could see the stone statues that guarded the main gates of the Dwarven kingdom, though only their stone boots were visible as they passed between them and up the steps. Emmy was too busy trying to take everything in to ask questions, and by the time they reached the top of the stairs she was more than a little out of breath. Dwalin glanced back at her and chuckled quietly, before leading the way down a shorter path. This one was smoother stone and engraved with runes in ancient Khuzdul, the patterns arranged in sharp squares and bordered with stars, each block of stone bearing a difference set of runes. The only reason she could see such a pattern was because of the torches lit on either side of the walkway, right up to the open stone doors. They were heavily guarded, though Dwalin and Emmy passed through unhindered, if not gaining a few queer looks as she tried to hide her face.

Once inside, he lead her directly to her left and up yet another flight of stairs.

'I'm afraid this tour might not be all I promised,' said Dwalin, looking at her from the corner of his eye. 'The king is holding a feast in the main hall, so I think it best if we restrict ourselves to the less used passages.'

Emmy smiled up at him, 'That's alright. Just being inside the mountain at all is more than I'd ever hoped for. I'm sure the king's guests are more important.'

The shadow that passed across his face told her different, 'You're not wrong.'

Emmy frowned, but did not question him further. It was obvious that Dwalin had no liking for the Iron Born dwarves, especially as she'd only ever seen him either throwing them around, or dragging them down the street roughly. She herself had stayed in Dain's kingdom for a time, and her uncle had warmed to them despite his usual mistrust of anyone other than himself. However, she had disliked their cruelty _then_ the same as she did now – no one loved them, it seemed.

'Where will we be going, then?' she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Dwalin looked down at her again, the shadow gone from his features. 'I will lead you thorugh the mountain, right to the top balcony. There won't be much to see on the way, but once we get there I guarantee it will be worth it.'

She grinned, trying to keep pace with him as they climbed up and up the staircase, before emerging out into a narrow corridor and heading up yet another stone set of stairs. It was hard work and her legs and lungs ached painfully, but something about it sent a thrill shooting through her. She had just met this warrior not two days ago, and he had physically thrown a dwarf through the tavern door before her very eyes. He was clearly dangerous, and not a one to be messed with, so why would he bother showing a little mousy woman around the mountain at night?

Curiosity got the better of her, and the question was out before she could stop herself, 'Why did you offer to show me around?'

The question seemed to catch him off guard, 'What?' he asked, a little roughly.

Emmy hesitated, focusing on the task of climbing the maze of never ending corridors and stairs, 'I-I just wondered…because I'm just some bar maid….and you're…' she heard a sigh and an arm came out to stop her from moving further. They were half way up a spiral staircase, windowless and narrow, to the point where she could feel the fur lining his shirt bushing against her cheek.

A blush crept up to her face as she met his unblinking eyes, 'You've have a shit few days, and so have I. I don't know what made me defend you that day in the tavern, but whatever it was has gotten a hold of me and I can't seem to shake it.' Heat flowed between them, the rock was sharp and digging painfully into her back, but nothing could have moved her from her place in front of him if the mountain itself had collapsed around her. 'My head is full of suspicions and no matter where I look I see Iron Born's plotting against us, so I come here to think and to escape. Perhaps I thought you were in need of an escape too.'

Emmy swallowed the saliva that had collected in her mouth and tried not to fidget under his gaze. His hand was still clutched around her forearm and the skin burned where his flesh touched her naked skin, 'I was. I'd give anything to be rid of-' she paused suddenly, and her eyes widened in panic._ You've said too much, foolish brat!_

'Be rid of what?' he asked, eyes narrowing.

Emmy shook her head, 'Nothing. Forget what I said.'

Dwalin stared at her for a long moment before releasing her arm, though he did not back away. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, not daring to look up into his eyes until she felt the warmth of his fingers on her chin, tilting her head up. It surprised her, enough to make her comply without a struggle, and the emotion she saw in his face was curious. Not anger or suspicion as she had been expecting, but something more intense. As if he was willing her to do or say something, though she did not know what. Her lower limbs began to tremble, the curious warmth in her chest spreading through her and making her weak. _When did his face get so close?_ She wondered._ Why am I allowing him to get so close? Why do I want him to? _She had no answer for any of those questions.

'Come,' he said, releasing her chin and stepping back. 'We have to keep moving.' He turned and marched up the stairs quickly, leaving her to follow in his wake. She had looked up at the last minute, seeing the look of confusion on his face before he turned.

Her heart was beating quickly in her chest, though she told herself it was only for the effort of climbing so high. He kept himself ahead of her for the rest of the journey, stopping only to allow her to catch up to him, and no more was said until they finally reached the top. The wind was blowing more fiercely up there, and the cold crawled beneath her cloak forcing her to pull the garment tighter around herself as she fought to catch her breath.

A guard was standing there, leaning back against the wall of rock behind him as Dwalin cleared his throat.

'Back to your post now, Dalri.'

Dalri jerked upright at the sound of Dwalin's voice, shaking visibly from the cold or the fright, Emmy could not tell. He bowed to them both before slipping away back through the door, sparing a curious glance in her direction as he left.

Dwalin motioned for her to come towards him, closer to the stone railing at the edge of the balcony, 'This is the highest point in the entire kingdom,' he said as she came to stand by him. 'There is nothing to block your view for miles on either side.'

Emmy seemed to hear his voice from far away, the breath leaving her lungs as her eyes devoured the sight before her. Dale was miniscule beneath her, just as she'd imagined, and the tiny pinpricks of light from the many houses lining the streets were the only indication that people lived there at all. Under the light of the moon Dale was just visible, and beyond that the vast forest that stretched as far as she could see, continuing on up the face of the crags and peaks, until it disappeared down the other side. To the right jagged rocks and stony hills made the land appear uneven and treacherous, and beyond that they green lands dwindled into the distance. The river that brought the barrels out of Mirkwood reflected the moonlight and made the water look like molten silver, its course bended and dropped in miniature waterfalls and rapids the further back towards the forest it went. She watched it flow, listening to the sounds of the distant crashing as the water smashed against the rocks, as well as the calls of lonely creatures deep amongst the darkened woods below. Down there, danger lurked around every corner. Yet up here, it was easy to feel as safe as an eagle atop his eyrie, ready to take off at a moment's notice, always one step ahead of harm.

She turned to see Dwalin watching her again, though this time she could see the expectation in his eyes. She smiled, 'I could look at it forever, and it would not be long enough.'

This seemed to please him, his lips inched up at the corners into a genuine smile to match her own. It transformed his face, she thought momentarily. It shifted the darkness out of his eyes and replaced it with fire.

'I said as much when I first saw it,' he replied. The wind had picked up again, and the chill was causing her ears to ache and her eyes to water. His body seemed unaffected from where she was standing right next to him, and she recalled the heat from his skin not moments before they had reached the balcony.

Carefully, she inched a little closer to him, hoping her movement would go unnoticed. It only made sense that they should stay as close as possible, especially since they would probably be there for a long time. He had promised to walk her back to the town before midnight, but that was still a few hours off and she was _cold_. As soon as she got a little closer she felt the warmth again, and it made her sigh quietly. Why was he so warm? Surely he must have some sort of fever; the wind was enough to chill her to the bone.

Suddenly she knocked into his arm and her face flushed in embarrassment. Dwalin jerked and looked towards her again, noticing her close proximity and raising his eyebrow in question. She fought numbly for an answer, 'I-I'm cold.' It was the truth, but it sounded stupid said out loud.

He blinked at her in surprise, and something cold and hard clenched around her heart as she wondered if he would force her to go back home. Though he had startled her back in the stairwell, she had enjoyed herself tonight and would have no objection to repeating the experience again. The thought of her ruining whatever friendship they'd built over her forwardness was quite painful to bear. She lowered her eyes, fighting the lump in her throat, when she felt an arm encircle her waist slowly from behind.

She held her body rigid, snapping her eyes open and looking around to find Dwalin's arms on either side of her, his warmth spread evenly across her back. Emmy shivered, leaning into the feeling unconsciously, and breathed in the scent of him as it washed over her. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was alerting her to the reality of her situation and the consequences of it if her uncle were to find out. However, right now from her position atop the highest point in Erebor, with Dwalin's muscled arms hemming her in on either side, she felt the safest she had ever felt in her whole life. Her uncle could not get here from there, and the voice in her head was nothing but a whisper she could shove aside to allow another thought to spring up in its wake. How a fire had started deep in her gut, fuelled by the musky, deep scent of the air and the puffs of his breath against her neck.

They stood still like that for a long time, his chest pressed against her back and his arms holding her cloak closed around her body as the night wind battered them both. Finally the wind dropped again, though Dwalin still did not release her. In fact, it seemed as though he pressed her a little more insistently, large arms tightening their grip, as if she were about to be taken away at any moment and he was fighting to keep her there.

'The Royal wedding in in two days time,' he stated softly, speaking into the hair that fell down around her ears. 'Will I see you there?'

Emmy felt her courage rise, 'You will. I promise.'

He took a deep breath, arms tightening noticeably one last time, before he released her slowly. She turned, looking up into his face just as he looked down at her intensely. Beneath the moon, covered with his fur and his eyes shining fiercely at her, Emmy could see the bear in him at that moment.

'I have to take you back now,' he said, though not in his usual growly voice. 'I know it's way before midnight, but the streets aren't safe after dark, especially not now.'

She frowned, 'Why?'

'I told you, I don't like the Iron Born's. And they don't like me, neither.'

'You think they'd attack us?'

Dwalin laughed hollowly, 'I wouldn't put it past them, which is why I'd rather you were back in the safety of the tavern instead of being seen with me. I don't think I'm a very safe person to be associating with at the moment.'

Emmy could not help the sinking feeling in her chest, chasing away all of the new and heated thoughts from moments before. Was he having doubts about her? Was he regretting what he did? Her face seemed to ask the questions for her, as she suddenly found herself backed up against the stone railing, his hand cupping her face and his head bowed so he was looking straight into her eyes.

'I won't have you targeted because of me,' he said in a low voice, though his eyes travelled to her lips and seemed to remain there, fascinated.

'How do you know they're after you, though?' she squeaked. She could feel the embers of the fire spark back into flame, and her legs trembling again. _He was so close!_

Dwalin regarded her seriously, 'I don't know for certain, but I can feel something's wrong. There are some that don't agree with Dain's decision, especially the noble families in the council.' The pad of his thumb traced a line towards her bottom lip, but stopped short as he seemed to catch himself, and pulled his hand away. 'Their sons and daughters aren't the only candidates for wedding the future kings and queens. Equal rights means everyone has a chance, even the small folk in the town. You can imagine how angry they might be?'

Emmy nodded, understanding dawning on her. Thorin had not long been a king either, and he was already changing the laws. It made sense that someone would disagree.

'I will go back to Dale,' she said, smiling. Though she added, 'As long as you promise to bring me back here, whenever you can. I have enjoyed every part of tonight.'

Dwalin reeled, 'Really? You'd want to come back?'

'More than anything,' she replied.

The warrior grinned and nodded, 'It won't be every night, mind you. I've got other duties as well as night watchman.' He stepped back, allowing his arm to fall away from where it had been resting against the railing, and gently took hers in his larger one. 'Every time I'm stationed here, though, I promise I'll come for you.'

The words rang in her ears all the way back to Dale, aided by the fact that he did not let go of her hand until they reached sight of the tavern. Emmy saw her aunt peering through the window at her as she approached, and she knew that she was safe to enter. Turning to Dwalin, she smiled one last time.

'If I don't see you until the wedding,' she said, before she used the last of her wavering courage and wrapped her arms around his neck in a brief hug. 'Meet me at the top of the stone stairs before the entrance. I'll be there just after sundown.'

Dwalin reached down awkwardly, patting her back in a friendlier gesture than the full on embrace he had given her before. Emmy suspected it had something to do with her aunt watching him from behind the curtains, 'Right, lass. I'll be waiting.'

Her aunt did not question her when she finally got back through the door, preferring to usher her up the stairs and into her room quietly so that her uncle did not wake from his ale induced coma. There would be a lengthy discussion tomorrow though, especially after what she had seen, and she would also have to find a way of escaping the tavern for the wedding. Her aunt would help, she knew that for sure, but would her uncle be as obliging as he had been tonight? That was where the danger lay. She lay down on her bed, pulling the bedcovers over her and it reminded her vividly of the balcony and Dwalin's arms. A grin spread across her face, followed by a blush, and she fell asleep with the scent of him on her skin.

**The next chapter may see some more of our 'frisky Thorin' after the feast, it's been a while since we've had any smut. However, I will leave it up to you. The smut is not really needed for the story, I just like to write it for my own amusement :p Please feel free to post a review, or send me a personal message with your views/ suggestions!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the long delay in between uploads. I am very busy with University work (It's the middle of exam period) and I just don't have time to write at the moment. I wrote this because I had a flash of inspiration (and a free moment in between essay writing) to throw this little smutty chapter together for you, so I hope you like it.**

**There may be similarly long delays in the future, so please be patient with me and thank you all for sticking by me. I honestly could not have asked for a better welcome to this site! :)**

**I love you all, enjoy!**

* * *

A low wailing sounded from the cracks and chiselled out holes between the rock wall where the wind crept in, the sound as haunting and cold as the room now appeared once the last of the drunken rabble had left for their rooms. Thorin was sat in the feasting hall, alone but for the kitchen staff that were methodically clearing the remnants of the food and trying not to cast sideways looks at their brooding, troubled king. He was no longer sitting poker straight, face arranged into a pleasant expression as he prattled on to the King of the Iron Hills. No. Since his conversation with Dwalin hours ago, his oldest and most trusted friend, Thorin Oakenshield had not been able to crack a smile for the life of him.

Dala had read him at once and found a way to occupy the surrounding guests until they drank themselves into forgetfulness, then ushered them out in dribs and drabs until there was nothing to break the silence that he so craved. Their noise had annoyed him, his eyes flicking to the dark eyed iron born in the centre of the long table who spoke in whispers to the other heads of noble families around him, wondering if what Dwalin said was true. _They may put a stop to your marriage._

He felt his glare grow hotter as his eyes focused on the golden goblet in front of him, some distant and childish part of his mind wanting it to spontaneously burst into flames to appease his growing rage. _They would not dare!_ He thought, bitterly. Though he could not ignore the sense of danger that had gripped him since the dark eyed one had cornered Dala the day after his public announcement. He had not told her his name, which had been a good move on his part. Had he been so foolish, Thorin would have had no qualms about driving Orcrist deep into the dwarf's skull, but not before he asked who else shared his notions. Dain had been right about the backlash of the law change. The noble families were not happy.

Three knocks sounded, turning his attention to the thick oak door that was firmly closed against any prying eyes. When she entered, his anger left almost instantly – as the wind blows the snow from the tips of the misty mountains.

'They're gone,' she announced, moving warily to stand in front of him. She wore the tunic he'd commissioned for her, along with a jewel encrusted sword belt and the necklace he'd made her as a courting gift. The sapphire and diamond hair beads clacked when she sat in her seat to his right, those had been courting gifts as well, claiming her as his for all the world to see.

But the world did not want to see, if the reports he was hearing were true.

Though most had accepted this change with indifference, there were those among his own people that thought differently. Who knew what lies were being sown amongst the small folk in the town? Who knew what Dain's jealous nobles were promising; gold, jewels, precious stones and gems? They all pointed to the same thing, the same problem, the same danger that was keeping the happiness at his betrothal at bay. _The day you wed the king will be your last day on middle-earth. Watch for me._ That was what the iron born had told her that day, and ever since she'd confided in him, the words had secretly haunted him.

'Good,' he replied, finally. He lifted his eyes from the goblet and met her's for the first time in hours. Her dark hair was wild and – according to the maids – completely untameable, sticking out at odd angles as it fell heavily down her back. She was still muscled from her work, still tanned and a little sooty, still sharp tongued and witty and fiery when roused. She was still here, in touching distance…but for how long? 'I spoke to Dwalin earlier.'

She nodded, 'I saw.'

'Do you want to know what he said?'

'Yes.'

He chuckled at her blunt answer. It was not the answer a princess would have given, a princess would have replied with _of course, my lord _or something of the sort. Something she had been taught to say, not what her own knowledge of the world, or her own courage commanded. Was he truly the only one besides his own kin that loved her for it?

'They're causing trouble all over. Dwalin's guards keep getting into scrapes with the more cock-sure younglings of Dain's men, and he thinks the same as Balin. That our wedding is in jeopardy.'

Dala considered this for a moment, her dark eyebrows knitting together. He took the time to drink in the sight of her, bold and dark and wild, trying to fit into her gilded robes while she hammered out swords and axes in the smoke and heat and flame. It made him smile as she answered him, 'What can they really do to us if your own guards are with you? Watch them? Keep tabs on them? I'm sure I can find some people in Dale that will keep their eyes and ears open so we have some warning at least.'

'How do we know we can trust them?' he asked, sitting a little straighter. 'It's not only Dain's men that worry me.'

'You think there are traitors in the guard? With _Dwalin_ in charge?' her astonishment was feigned, but he could not bring himself to smile at it. Dwarves would risk their own lives where money and jewels were involved, and the nobles had those in plenty.

'It's possible. They could be anywhere,' he said, allowing his gaze to fall lower and lower down her body. He had not been alone with her like this for two days, he realised. The threat on his betrothed's life, as well as Dwalin's unsettling stories had consumed his mind lately. When his eyes alighted upon the swelling mounds rising from the top of her bodice, he felt himself stir in his breeches.

Dala leaned back in her chair, watching his pupils dilate as he ogled her breasts, 'Well how about I tell them that, should they not listen to me and help me when I ask, they can shoe their own damn horses and leave me be!'

He chuckled, wishing it could all be that easy. This would need a lot of thought and even more cunning, but he had very useful friends. In the morning he would assemble a small meeting with a select few dwarves from his own company, his most trusted, his most loyal and the only ones he would dare admit his fears to. Now though, he had allowed his eyes to linger over her breasts for too long, and he needed her to make him forget. Just for a while.

Slowly Thorin got to his feet, trying not to make his arousal obvious, and inched his hand closer to where Dala's was resting on the table top. She lifted her head when their skin touched and, after meeting his gaze, rose to stand with him.

She bit her lower lip, 'There are guards and staff everywhere, Thorin.'

'Not in my chambers. Not in here.'

'We can't!'

The king sighed, 'I promised I would not go any further than you think is appropriate. Do you remember?'

Dala blushed and the rush of colour to her cheeks caused certain parts of _him _to throb, 'I remember, of course I do.' Thorin traced his hand up her left arm and into her tangle of hair, pulling her a little closer to him. 'Not in here and not for very long. People will notice your absence.'

The king snorted, but accepted her terms eagerly. The kingdom was asleep at this hour, so there would be very few possibilities of being caught, though the mere thought of it seemed to add fuel to his already blazing fire.

'Fine,' he said, taking her hand again and pulling her towards the door. Dala was still tense, looking from side to side as they exited the council chamber and headed down the darkened tunnel.

He did not know where he was going, the corridor they were racing down led back towards the main entrance, though he had noticed some nooks – great cracks in the rock, probably caused by the dragon's forced entrance into the kingdom all those years ago – that would now prove very useful. Guards were stationed outside the main doors, two on each side, and Thorin slowed so that their approach was not heard. There was nowhere for them to go without being seen, nowhere other than the narrow corridor to their left leading to one of the outer staircases, so dark it was impossible to see where you were going.

Thorin ducked into the corridor quickly, right hand dragging across the stone until finally, just before the stairs began there was a nook large enough to fit both of them, with a little room to spare. No one would look for them there, and just as Dala stepped into the fissure behind him there were the sounds of hurried footsteps moving past their hiding space. They held their breath, pressed against each other in the dark, and waited until they gradually died away.

Dala sighed and chuckled in relief, 'This is risky. Imagine what people would say if the king of Erebor was caught, squashed into a hiding spot with his betrothed?'

Thorin pressed her against the rock, his hips grinding into hers as Dala pushed the thick coat from his shoulders and onto the floor.

'I don't give a damn what they say,' he growled, before lifting her up off the ground and forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. He bit back a moan as his erection rubbed against her clothed entrance, sending a spark of lust through his body. He was on the edge, the adrenaline coupled with the thought of someone seeing them so entwined only added to his excitement, and for a moment he had to remain still until the feeling passed.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the top laces having come undone throughout the evening and it slipped easily over his head when Dala yanked it up. He chuckled, delighted with her newfound enthusiasm for rule breaking, and kissed her hard. The air was cold as it hit his skin, but when the bodice Dala was wearing finally joined his own clothes at their feet, their combined warmth fought off the lingering chill.

It was hard to remain quiet, especially now that he could feel the hardened nubs of her nipples pressing against his chest. His hands dropped from her thighs, allowing her to stand upright again, and moved instead to massage her breasts. They were full and smooth, fitting his larger hands almost perfectly, and as he took one into his mouth he heard Dala's answering sigh. She arched her back, exposing her chest further and tangled her fingers into his hair, tugging on the braids the way he liked it.

'Thorin,' she breathed in his ear, causing him to shiver and straighten up. Dala pushed him back a little roughly, her strength surprising him for a moment, until he felt her hands at the front of his breeches and all other thoughts were driven from his head. The laces fell apart in her hands and he felt himself spring free, already drenched with anticipation at her next move.

She took him in hand, the callouses from her work adding to the friction as she stoked him slowly, torturously, until his breathing was laboured. Their earlier encounter in the woods some days back came flooding into his head, the sensations, the feeling of her body behind him as she worked him hard. This feeling was similar, apart from the teasingly slow pace.

His hips bucked forward into her hand, 'faster!' he hissed, his hands digging into the rock wall behind him.

She shook her head, 'Not yet.'

Growling, he looked down to where he knew her face was, before she slowly sunk to her knees. His breathing almost stopped as he watched her mouth come level with his throbbing length, the puffs of her breath ghosting over the weeping tip. It took every ounce of his self-control not to lose it right there.

'You're killing me,' he complained, allowing his hand to rest in her nest of hair. He got no answer other than a chuckle, and the soft, wet feeling of her tongue sliding over the sensitive flesh of his cock.

Thorin's pleasured moan was too loud in the silence, so much so that he had to hold his breath as he felt himself slip deeper and deeper into the hot cavern of her mouth. It was like nothing he had felt before, the sensation so alien to him after years of making do with his own hand to provide him release. He had heard some of the others bragging about such things when drunk, and Thorin had laughed along with them, though he had never experienced anything quite like this. None of the others knew just how little experience their king had, despite the rumours of his younger days, and only now did he realise just how much he had been missing out.

Once he was fully seated inside of her with his length hitting the back of her throat, Dala managed to swallow without gagging, tightening her throat around him and pulling back slowly. Her cheeks hollowed out, one hand circling the base as she sucked and released him with an indecent popping sound. Thorin grunted, his hand taking a fistful of her hair, and re-entered her mouth in one stroke, thrusting his hips back and forth.

He was close, so close, and he could feel the sweat running down his back as his climax neared to the point of throbbing. Dala seemed to pick up on the warning signs however, removing herself from his grasp with a little difficulty and slamming his hips back against the rock.

Thorin moaned in frustration, reaching down to stroke himself desperately in an attempt to reach his orgasm quickly, but Dala was quicker. She grabbed his hand and pulled, forcing him down onto the cramped and freezing floor with her, before guiding him onto his back. Thorin allowed this, finding himself enthralled with this new, dominating side to her character and keen to admire her body from her position straddled across his hips. Her weight, coupled with the friction of her leggings against him caused his breath to come in hurried, frenzied gasps.

Up above, Dala ground her hips against him while her breasts swayed with the motion of his upward thrusts, his hands guiding her hips into a vigorous pace. He could hear his voice loudly in the enclosed space, calling her name and other unintelligible scraps of words as the pleasure mounted once again, though this time he knew he would not be able to stop. The very thought of being able to do this for real on their wedding night drove him wild with need, and as he sat up with her still in his lap, Thorin wrapped his arms around her and buried his face between her breasts.

The end was nearing and his breathing became short, sharp gasps. Then, loud voices could be heard coming closer to their hiding spot.

'Shh!' hissed Dala from above him, forcing him to slow down so that they could listen. He was almost at the brink, pre-cum was running down his shaft and soaking the crotch of her leggings were he was pressed against her, and he almost whimpered as the voices came to a stop just before the entrance to their corridor.

'…can't find him, apparently.' The voice was accented strangely, indicating that the dwarf was not of his own kin, and that put Thorin on alert immediately.

Another voice answered the first, 'Do you think it worked then?'

He couldn't stop, his hips were moving a little quicker than before, though he worked hard to keep his breathing under control. _He was so close._

'We can't be sure. Azrac has failed before, so I do not have a large amount of confidence in him.'

'If he's messed this up, he's out.' Thorin began to throb as he ground against her, only half listening to the conversation not five feet away from him. Dala helped him along, tugging his braids at the back of his head and moving her own hips in a circular motion. 'Either way, I think we should get away from this area. It's swarming with guards.'

The other murmured consent and, finally, the footsteps divided up and went off in opposite directions. As soon as they were out of hearing, Thorin moaned again and slammed his hips upwards in a bruising rhythm, his breathy groans unchecked as he hurtled towards his long awaited climax.

'Coming!' he hissed between clenched teeth, as he felt himself twitch beneath her. Dala moved off of him quickly, before taking him into her hands again and stroking him hard. In the next moment, Thorin tossed his head back and suppressed a roar as his seed exploded from him in thick torrents, splattering both the wall and the ground, before pooling between his legs.

Dala kissed him slowly once his heart rate returned to normal, and he relished the feeling of her naked torso pressed against his chest. He was beginning to feel sleepy when he realised that, once again, he had neglected to tend to her needs first.

'Dala, I'm sorry!' he began as he slid his fingers under the waistband of her leggings, preparing to make up for his mistake.

However, he was surprised when he felt her push him away.

'No, don't worry,' she said, before leaning down to kiss him again. 'I'd rather wait. Especially after what we just heard.'

Thorin became concerned, 'I admit, I wasn't paying a lot of attention at the time.'

'They were talking about -' she began, but was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

A loud boom shook the walls and floor around them, shaking lose bits of stone out of the main rock face, and showering them both with lethal shards and a torrent of falling debris...


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here is a quick chapter based on Bofur's shenanigans set the day before, just to provide an interlude for the main story. As I say I won't be able to update often, but I had a dream about Bofur last night (I know, lucky right?) and thought I'd offer this little oneshot since this story was supposed to be about the Comapny as a whole :') I promise the next chapter will be a continuation from the last, since it was a bit of a cliffhanger.**

Also what with the new guidelines about ratings etc, I'm a bit worried this story might get deleted. If anyone knows of a site that allows MA fiction to be posted, please could you let me know?

As ever, enjoy (while you can!). 

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Scented mist rose in thin clouds from the hot pool, escaping out of the open balcony doors. The bath house was surprisingly quiet that evening, with only one or two dwarves enjoying the hot, bubbling waters that sprung up from the centre of the mountain. Golden light poured into the stone room as the sun set, its heat still potent on contact with the skin, and from far below the sounds of the town still echoed up to where the residents of the mountain were winding down for the evening.

Haili had just finished reorganising the enormous pile of books that had been left strewn across one of the back tables in the library, the task taking a lot longer than she had anticipated, and now that she and Ori had parted ways for the day she was at liberty to indulge her aching back with a nice, hot bath. Looking around the bath house, Haili noticed a pool with only one occupant, situated right beneath one of the floor length windows and thus offering a wonderful view of the kingdom and the town. She made her way over, careful to take the opposite end of the pool to the other dwarf, and began to slowly remove her clothes. She left her smallclothes on, never having been brave enough to bare all as some dwarves did, before sighing as the hot water rose up to her neck.

Her sigh seemed to rouse her bathing partner however who, having fallen asleep with his head down, looked up with sleepy eyes and caused a jolt of shock to spark through her body. It was lucky that she was submerged in hot water, as her blush was so red it would have otherwise been impossible to talk her way out of.

Bofur, who straightened a little at the sight of her, seemed not to notice her inward struggle.

'Haili I…I didn't see you there,' he said, clearing his throat in the middle of his speech.

His hair was wet and tousled from the steam of the water and, she was strangely pleased to notice, he was also struggling to hide his nakedness from her sight. Haili noticed his clothes and hat discarded to the side of the pool, blushing as her mind wandered to the realisation that he was mere feet from her, entirely naked. It would not be the first time she had imagined him without clothes, nor would it be the last, but her imaginings had not prepared her for the reality of it.

She blushed harder, 'Don't worry about it, Bofur. I didn't mean to wake you.'

'It's probably just as well you did. I must have been here for at least half an hour,' he chuckled. His eyes, which were dark and kind, had not moved from her face since she had made her presence known. Usually when their eyes met like this, from across the meeting hall, the dining room, when they chanced upon each other in Laketown, they would both smile – shyly at that – before hurrying off in the opposite direction to each other. Now, they were both trapped. All those sly glances, shy smiles and awkward conversations had slowly built up and now…

They had danced around each other for the longest time…the tension was becoming unbearable.

Bofur waved the steam away as he edged around, closer to where she was pressed against the side of the pool, so that she could finally get a clear view of him. Heat that had nothing to do with the water temperature shot down towards her groin as his body came into focus, and all attempts to avert her eyes had gone out of the open window. His muscular shoulders glistened with sweat and water as he rested his arms up on the side of the pool behind him, broad chest expanding from the movement. Haili wanted to touch him, to stroke her hand across his chest and tangle her fingers in the hair that matted it, to feel the strength of his arms around her and their wet, naked flesh as it rubbed together.

Her breathing hitched as her thoughts ran wild inside her head, causing her arousal to spike sharply and her gaze to flick to his, wide and guilty. Bofur was staring at her intently, all his easy nature gone from his eyes, only to be replaced by hunger. It frightened her a little, to see him so changed, but the throbbing in her centre over powered any unease over this and a curious sense of bravery overcame her. She would never get another chance like this, to be so close to him, in such an informal setting, and she had to make the most of it.

'Bofur I -,' she began quietly, in an attempt to voice the longing she felt for him at last. She was looking down at her hands, too worried that she would lose her courage if their eyes met, so she was not prepared for the shift in the water around her and the sudden, very close proximity of the object of her desire.

He was inches from her, and she shivered when he reached up to push a lock of her soaking wet hair out of her eyes. She glanced nervously towards the other pools and found them all empty, before turning back and forcing herself to look up into his eyes. Sexual activity was forbidden in any public area, especially the baths for obvious reasons, but the look on Bofur's face made her wonder if Thorin himself would have any power to stop him if he wanted to take her then. The sun had turned from gold to dark orange, and was casting a candle-like glow across his skin as he descended upon her.

'Answer me honestly,' he said a little hoarsely, as his marauding hand stroked across her collarbone and down her left arm. 'Is there anyone else, anyone, that you have feelings for.'

Haili's heart pounded as she whispered, 'None but you.'

'Do you swear it?' he asked, and she realised then what he was doing. The first step of courtship was to declare your truest feelings with all honesty, it was the one and only way each partner could be sure of the other's intent.

'I swear by Aule, the father, that my heart belongs to you,' she answered earnestly. She had heard it spoken so often in her life, between couples of all ages and all clans, and now it was happening to her. She knew the process off by heart, as all dwarves did, but never did she believe her own courtship would begin in the bath!

Bofur smiled then, eyes brimming with all the joy and relief she herself felt, before he reached up and pulled one of his braids free. The bead he gave her, that she then wove into her own hair, was brown and gold, the emeralds glittering when the light hit them and she could feel its weight as it hit her chest. The bead marked her as his, an outward sign to any potential competition that she was spoken for, and that any attempt upon her would mean his right to defend her with body and shield. Dwarves were possessive, especially the males, and fights over a dwarf woman often ended in bloodshed…and on rare occasions, death.

It was a risk he was willing to take however, and as he murmured his own oath to love only her, she shivered in anticipation of the kiss that would seal it. She would not have to wait long as Bofur touched her cheek softly, urging her forwards so that their bodies were touching beneath the water, before he kissed her firmly on the lips. It was slow and languid, a long anticipated climax to months of wondering and wishing on both parts. He pulled back after a moment and touched his forehead to hers.

'I've waited years to do that,' he confessed a little breathlessly, pushing her back against the wall with his body. She could feel his hardness pressing against her lower body, separated only by her thin smallclothes, and could not resist bucking her hips against him. He groaned low in his throat, 'You know, technically, what you're doing is illegal.'

She chuckled, 'Are you going to tell the king on me?'

He ground his hips back against her and moaned a little louder this time, 'I won't…but only if you meet me at the tavern in an hour.'

Haili raised her eyebrows, 'The tavern? Why the tavern?'

Bofur fidgeted and rubbed gently against her in frustration, 'Because we're courting, which means we're allowed to rent a room together without arousing too much suspicion.'

Haili rolled her eyes, 'Yes, but that doesn't mean we're allowed to…well…_do_ anything.'

'We can't consummate,' he agreed. 'But there's no law against doing other things.'

Haili throbbed a little in anticipation of what he meant by 'other things,' managing only to nod. He grinned, kissing her deeply again for a few moments, before reluctantly pulling himself away from her. Together they climbed out of the pool, Bofur making little effort to hide his very obvious staring as her smallclothes clung to her body, rendered see-through thanks to the water. It took them a while to get dried and dressed in between kisses and wandering hands, but finally they were decent enough to leave the bath house.

With one final kiss, Haili turned and fled to her chambers, stripping herself of her old clothes and dressing carefully in her finest dress. It was a dark blue cotton, embroidered with silver lace across the bodice and a stark white underskirt. Her hair was wavy after her bath, but passable for a night at the tavern with Bofur, and his courting braid was very clearly visible in her hair.

A multitude of emotions were crossing her mind, all of them infused with the same shock and excitement she had first felt at hearing the courting words. He was hers and it had happened so suddenly, as these things usually do, that she could barely comprehend it. Bofur, who she had been dreaming of since she had laid eyes on him at her return to Erebor, had finally declared his feelings for all the world to see. She was still in shock, still overwhelmed, but had no time to dwell on it now.

It had taken her nearly the full hour to get dressed and sort her emotions out, before she finally set off for the tavern with her nerves going haywire. In the past, the possibility of meeting him around the kingdom and town had been enough to set her heart fluttering, but now that she was going specifically to spend the night with him, the fluttering had turned to flat out hammering. She passed several dwarves on her way out of the mountain, none of which she knew. However, as soon as she left and made her way up the road she spotted her co-worker and best friend Ori, chatting amiably to his two older brothers.

When he saw her he waved, before his eyes alighted upon the glittering bead in her hair. Haili stopped in front of him and both Nori and Dori leaned in for a closer look.

Ori swallowed thickly, 'A courting bead,' he stated, matter-of-factly.

Nori rolled his eyes at his younger brother, 'Not just a courting bead, mate. That belongs to Bofur, or I'm a beardless orc.'

Haili chuckled, 'No one could ever call you a beardless orc, Nori. You're right, of course.'

'So you and Bofur,' said Ori quietly. 'I didn't know.'

Haili frowned at her friend's odd behaviour, wondering why he did not share in her happiness. He was friends with Bofur, she had seen them talking and laughing together whenever Bofur came into the library, and he could not have failed to see her attraction to him? She was about to question his obvious disapproval when Dori broke in.

'Well, congratulations Haili. Bofur's a good lad,' he said with a smile. He clapped a hand on Ori's back, jolting him from whatever thought he'd been contemplating.

'Er yes, of course. A great friend,' he conceded, straightening the books in his arms. 'Well I'll see you tomorrow, then. Still got lot's to do.' And without another word, Ori turned and walked away from her without looking back.

Dori smiled again, a little less genuinely this time, and followed his brother until they were both out of sight. Nori shook his head, 'Don't worry, lass. Ori's a strange one…no doubt he's read something in one of them books he loves that's hurt his feelings again. You'd be surprised how often _that_ happens.' She chuckled and smiled as Nori took his leave, but was unable to rid herself of the sinking feeling in her chest.

Ori had never reacted so strangely to something she'd said before, and it disturbed her to think she had been the cause of his disquiet. Just then she heard her name being called, and looked up to see Bofur striding towards her.

'There you are,' he said when he reached her, pulling her into his arms. 'I was beginning to think you'd stood me up.'

She smiled as best she could, 'Of course not, I was just talking to Ori and his brothers. They noticed the bead.'

He grinned, 'Good. If Nori knows about us it won't be long till the whole bloody kingdom does.'

'I think I said something to upset him though,' she said, almost to herself as Bofur led her back towards the tavern.

He frowed, 'Nori? I'd find that hard to believe.'

She shook her head. 'No, Ori,' she corrected, feeling her throat begin to constrict anxiously.

Bofur did not seem to hear her as he nodded to the barman, who smiled and returned the gesture, before he led her to the back of the crowded room towards the stairs. Haili noticed a few of Bofur's friends that she knew by name and sight only, among them were Dwalin, Bombur and the two young princes Fili and Kili. They were too drunk to notice them passing through the crowd at the other end of the room, and just before they reached the stairs she saw Dwalin phase out of the conversation at his table, his eyes following a young, timid looking bar maid as she passed him by.

She grinned, wondering if hers would be the only courtship to begin that night, before she climbed the stairs behind Bofur and followed him into the room he'd rented for the night. As the door was closed and locked behind her, Haili noticed just how comfortable the room looked with the merrily crackling fire, the candles burning in their wall holders, and the evening sky darkening outside the window. The bed was simply covered, with plain cotton sheets and a worn comforter that looked as though it had seen better days.

She startled a little when she felt two arms encircle her waist from behind, and shivered when his lips brushed her ear, moving down slowly to kiss her neck. His body was warm and hard against her, its solidness comforting as his deep, masculine scent washed over her. She could not pin it down, not recognising any type of flower or scented oil on his skin despite the bath they'd just taken, and decided that it was simply his own scent – something unique to him that clung to his skin and drew her to him even more.

His hands found her hips and turned her towards him, pushing her backwards towards the bed as he kissed her a little more fiercely than before. When the backs of her legs hit the bed she sat down, kicking her shoes onto the floor, and backed up against the pillows wondering what it what 'other things' he intended to do to her. Bofur copied her movements and removed his own shoes, followed by his shirt, to reveal his torso it all of its glory. Years of weapons training, as well as his participation in the quest for Erebor, had defined his body so that each muscle was visible on his arms and chest. He crawled onto the bed, hitching her dress up as his hands travelled up her thighs, causing his bicep to flex as he did so. A moan escaped her throat.

He smirked, 'I like this dress. Can I take it off?'

'But I thought –' she began to protest, but Bofur covered her body with his and kissed her again, harder than before, laced with a heady mix of both desire and desperation.

He broke away panting, 'I won't go further than that, if you don't want me to. I promise,' he said. She hesitated, unconvinced, until he looked down at her with pleading eyes. 'Please?'

His hips moved subtly against her core, his erection so very apparent, and she knew she could not deny him even if she wanted to. Reaching up Haili unclasped the bodice at the front, Bofur's eyes watching her progress until she reached the end and it popped open, allowing him to pull it from her form and leave her in nothing but the white underskirt. Her breasts were bare before his hungry gaze, and as his hand moved to cup the left one, his mouth finding her other nipple, rolling it across his tongue and sending sparks of pleasure down into her core.

Haili gasped, 'Bofur! Oh,_ Mahal_.'

Bofur ground his hips against hers in response, groaning as the bed creaked loudly under his ministrations. Pulling back again, he took a moment to kick his breeches from his body, before settling back between her legs. The heated flesh of his erection was pushing against her clothed core now, it would be so easy for him to claim her once and for all, but he held to his word. He made no move to remove her underskirt; instead, he raised himself up on his arms – smiling down at her with something close to adoration in his eyes – and kissed his way from her breasts back up to her lips.

'I want to try something,' he murmured after a moment, and Haili could only nod as she felt his hand stroke up her thigh, inching closer and closer to her core, and her breathing almost stopped as his fingers brushed against her clit.

His lips parted as a strange look of wonder passed across his face, as if it was the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt before. He continued to look into her eyes as his fingers explored, rubbing against her sensitive nub, and plunging into her wet, heated core. He gasped as his fingers entered her tight channel, his other hand grasping his own arousal and stroking gently as he did so, and though it was painful at first the sensation passed into pleasure when he began to move them in and out.

'You like this?' he asked, uncertainly.

Haili nodded, but could not form any coherent words. His fingers were thick and calloused, but it only added to the sensation as they dragged across her sensitised walls and ventured deeper with every thrust. Bofur stroked himself harder with his other hand, breathing faster as the beads of moisture from the tip served to lubricate his hand, and watched in awe as he fucked her with his fingers. The sight of him pleasuring himself, coupled with his fingers and her own throbbing arousal meant that after another few minutes she was very close to her climax.

'Bofur, I'm close…please!' she whined, thrusting her hips up to meet his hand.

His own hand sped up when he noticed this, and she could see that he was not far from the brink himself. However, just as her body began to spasm he released himself and focused on driving her over the edge into completion, her tight channel contracting and squeezing around his fingers as her orgasm tore through her.

'Ah! Bofur!' she moaned, hands gripping the bed beneath her.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to her neck, 'So responsive, Haili.'

She smiled as she came down from her high, before sitting up and capturing him in a kiss. He was still hard, having denied himself so that she could experience her pleasure first, and it was past time she re paid him however she could.

Deciding to copy his earlier motions, Haili reached down and touched the tip of his erection, which caused him to groan at the contact. She grinned, realising just how close he was, and with one hand gripping the base she used her other hand to tease the tip with the palm of her hand, coating him in his own juices. His hands gripped her waist as he thrust up into her grasp, face buried in her shoulder as he moaned her name over and over.

He would not last much longer, her teasing was slowly becoming too much for him and soon he began to throb in her hands, 'Haili! Faster!' he ground out.

Complying, she gripped him fully and stroked him hard, the slick sound of him in her coated hands was almost indecent amid his breathy moans. She kissed his neck, working her way to his ear as he had done, until his hips slammed forward suddenly and her stomach was suddenly wet with his release.

'Oh fuck, Haili! _Haili_,' he breathed as he rode out his orgasm. His semen ran down her hands and stomach, pooling on her underskirt, which she pulled off of herself and used to wipe the excess away. Bofur collapsed against her when it was over, body still hot and slick with sweat, but both were too exhausted to care.

They lay together until the sweat dried cold onto their skin and the candles had burnt out, before Bofur at up slowly and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was dark in the room, the only light came from the moon and the dying embers of the fire in the hearth. Shifting position, he pulled the sheets back so that they could climb under, Haili cuddling up to him for warmth now that her arousal had been sated and her body temperature had finally dropped. She lay on her right side, her back pressed against his chest and his arm like a protective vice around her body, stroking soft circles into her stomach. She felt safe, happy, and incredibly lucky (albeit a little surprised still) to be in his arms at that moment. And as he whispered a goodnight into her ear, with one last peck on the cheek, her thoughts again returned to her little friend, Ori. Why had he reacted so badly? What had she said? But most importantly of all, at least to her, would their friendship ever be the same?

Haili closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth and scent of her betrothed, and allowed herself to – for now – forget her worries until dawn broke, and the sun rose once again.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Managed to get this chapter out finally, though I am still struggling with finding free time. Thank you all so much for your reviews, had no idea how much you guys loved Bofur! :p Though I don't blame you. **

**This one was a bit darker than I intended, though I'm blaming that on my post- Game of Thrones depression xD I'm sure those who watch will sympathise. The story will end after the (official) wedding, simply because it was always where I envisioned it ending. However, I have had a lot of wonderful reviews suggesting certain pairings which, hopefully, I will turn into oneshots. **

**Please continue to review! I love hearing from you.**

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Pain lanced through him as several jagged pieces of rock pierced his clothes and skin, tearing into his back and arms as he threw himself on top of Dala. The ground shook and groaned beneath them in a terrifying imitation of that day when Smaug had appeared, but this was not the work of a dragon. He coughed up some of the dust and grit that had accumulated in his mouth, waiting until the tremors were over until he finally pushed himself to his knees. Sounds of running feet, accompanied by the rattle of metal told him that the guards had rushed from their posts towards the centre of the commotion. Something had happened back towards the council chamber they had just vacated and Thorin, after pulling a thankfully uninjured Dala to her feet, took off after them without a word.

He could hear Dala following him, neither of them bothering to voice their opinions as to what exactly it was they had just heard – they didn't have to. Out in the main tunnel Thorin could already see the large chunks of rock that had fallen from the ceiling, scattered across the ground after having hit the surrounding walls in the force of the blast. Soldiers and civilians alike were crowding around the entrance to the council chamber, all of them shouting or crying out in shock at what had happened.

When they saw him approach they moved aside, wide eyed and fearful, so that he had a clear path to where Balin was standing in the doorway. His mentor did not speak as he moved towards him with a sickly complexion; instead he embraced him as a father would his son while everyone else looked on, rendering him speechless for a moment. Dala stepped up beside him, face stony and cold as her eyes fell onto the assumed culprit.

Dwalin and three other recruits had him down on the floor a few feet into the room, obviously having just tried to flee through the other broken doorway, their faces twisted with fury.

'What in Durin's name is going on?' Thorin asked hoarsely, moving out of Balin's grip so he could approach. His own shock had not fully subsided and for that he was grateful, it meant that his anger could be reined in for that bit longer.

Dwalin growled, 'A bomb plot, according to this waste of space.' The Iron Born looked young and afraid, but oddly resigned to his fate. Dwalin wrenched him up off the floor and brought him to face the king, 'Shall I bring him to the lower levels?'

Thorin nodded, his eyes hard as they searched the face of the youngster. The lower levels were hidden from the other civilians and only accessible to those with a key. At present those people were limited to Dwalin and Thorin; though if things kept progressing as they were he would seriously have to rethink this arrangement. After the bomber was hauled away and the remaining guards were sent to disperse the crowd, trying to convince the terrified onlookers that they were in fact perfectly safe, Balin approached him just as he reached out to take Dala's hand.

'We looked everywhere for you both,' he said quietly, his voice uneven. 'The last I saw of you, you were sitting in there with a sour look on your face. Where did you go?'

Thorin looked to Dala, who squeezed his hand reassuringly, and Balin seemed to take the hint. He cleared his throat, coaxing his voice into something that resembled his usual tone.

'Well, anyway, I think it's time we approached Dain. An attempt on your life is not to be taken lightly.'

'Arrange a meeting, Balin,' said Thorin, pleased to hear that his own voice was steady. 'No councillors, no guards, just those I would trust with my life – those who answered when I first asked for help.'

A feint smile turned the corners of Balin's lips upward as he nodded, 'Aye, it'll be done, but what about Dain? He will have to be involved in this; it's his men that are posing this threat.'

'He can have his advisor and two guards he trusts,' Thorin answered as he began to make for the lower levels, his hand tight around Dala's while the other gripped the hilt of Orcrist. 'I want them ready in an hour, to meet in the hall directly above here. It's off limits, and I want no risk of overhearing. Post guards all the way up to the door, and three each outside of it.'

He did not wait for Balin's reply, his anger finally surfacing above the shock and horror of what had almost happened. He thundered down through the tunnels, moving fast without stopping as he half pulled Dala along with him – to her credit, she did not say a word. The lower level dungeons were always cold, smelling of mould and old air, windowless as it was. The iron Born had been locked into the deepest, darkest cell they had and Dwalin stood stiffly on the other side of the bars.

He moved aside after taking one look at Thorin's face, unlocking the door so that the king could enter. He released Dala, handing his royal blue coat to her in case things got messy, before Dwalin reclosed the door and locked it behind him. The lad was cowering in the corner, weaponless and sporting a nasty black eye, until he suddenly threw himself down at the king's feet.

'Please, I'll tell you what they told me,' he begged, voice hoarse. 'Just don't kill me.'

'You tried to kill me and my betrothed,' hissed Thorin. 'That's high treason, and the death penalty.'

The lad whimpered, 'I had no choice.'

'Of course you had a choice!'

'They'd have killed me!'

Thorin reached down and grabbed a fistful of the younger dwarf's tunic, dragging him to his feet where he dangled pitifully in the air, 'And now_ I'm_ going to kill you.'

'No! Please, just listen,' he said desperately, hands trying to loosen Thorin's death-grip on his clothes. 'There's another plot! A bigger one!'

He heard Dwalin and Dala shift closer behind him, prompting him to release the prisoner so that the lad fell to his knees, 'Tell me the truth, all of it, and I'll let you live,' he ground out, his anger still too hot within him. 'Lie to me, and they will hear your screams for centuries to come.'

The iron born nodded quickly, eyes flitting nervously between all three of them as he spoke in a hurried voice, 'I was supposed to wait until you were completely alone, and then rig the surrounding area quickly before you noticed. I was the quickest. I don't understand how the bomb works, but I know you need fire to set it off. I…I think they've got a bigger one…'

Thorin clenched his fists, 'You think?'

'I heard them talking about it,' he added quickly, seeing the kings patience waver.

'Who are they?'

The lad hesitated, shaking his head as he backed up, but there was nowhere for him to go. Thorin unsheathed Orcrist and the blade shone in the dark, glinting of the torchlight behind him as he brought the blade perilously close to the other's neck, 'Tell me, or I'll ensure that you never speak again.'

He hesitated still, eyes half crazed with desperation, but in the end it was his own self-preservation that won out. He swallowed, clenching his eyes shut as if the words caused him pain.

'There are seven noble families in the Iron hills,' he whispered, causing Thorin to lean closer. 'I do not know the hearts of all of them, but-…I….I know that four of them, at least, are working against you.'

Four out of seven didn't sound so bad, but Thorin knew that it was. Working together, beneath the nose of their own king, made him wonder how much Dain really knew. Why would the iron king give his blessing, only to plot his assassination in so careless a way? It did not sound like something Dain would do, but it was not impossible.

'And what of this other plot?' he asked, deciding to wait until after the meeting to discuss his darker thoughts. 'When is it to be carried out?'

'Your wedding,' came the answer, and something icy cold dropped into his stomach.

Dwalin's warning rushed back to him then, and he wondered how he had not suspected this before. They had only been rumours, but he should have been more wary, more vigilant. His own happiness at having his wish granted had clouded his judgement and now…now he was paying for it…him and Dala both.

The Iron born was staring at his feet from the back corner where he'd crawled, though he surprised Thorin by speaking again. This time, his voice was steadier.

'The law can still be reversed, it's not too late.' He looked up, eyes curiously blank. 'You took our power when you made us equal to the small folk…if you marry _her_,' he indicated Dala with a nod of his head, 'we won't forget.'

'Nor will I,' countered Thorin, feeling his anger rise once again after it had fizzled somewhat. He took step forward before lowering himself to the other's level, 'You have told me everything I need to know…and now you're useless to me. I promised you your life, and you shall have it…but I did not say you would remain unscathed. I am not in the habit of forgiving those that wrong me.'

The lad jerked his head up and a look of defiance crossed his face. All of his fear from before had gone and suddenly, Thorin was faced with the scorn that was no doubt echoed by all those nobles who'd had their position compromised. He understood their concerns and he would try, after this mess was over, to put some of it to rights. For now though, he had a punishment to settle.

He stood, dragging the struggling iron born with him, before turning to Dala.

'You do not have to watch,' he said, bringing his blade up to his assassin's mouth. He motioned for Dwalin to come and hold the other still which he did without a word, allowing Thorin to have his other hand free.

Dala took a step forward towards the bars, ignoring the curses and violent struggles of the Iron Born, 'Yes, I do.'

Thorin met her gaze and nodded, secretly grateful that he would not have to keep this act a secret from her, before turning back to the matter at hand. He mentally hardened his mind and heart, trying not to think about how the lad was defenceless and at his mercy, but…worse…how close in age he was to his own nephews. His hand was strong and sure, the blade positioned as far back against the lad's tongue as it would go. It was the only way to ensure his silence.

* * *

After the events in the dungeons Thorin, Dwalin noticed, kept Dala closer to him than usual. The lass had stayed despite the ugly nature of the punishment, never flinching or looking away, as if she felt it her duty to witness something that she, no doubt, felt was her fault. She sat beside Thorin in the meeting also, curiously quiet about everything that had happened since the feast, and Dwalin wondered if she was feeling what he was feeling right then. It wasn't over. Something was going to happen soon… sooner than the lad had admitted.

There was hope, however. Balin had suggested they move the wedding forward to the next night, securing the bonds of marriage, before staging a ceremony on the official wedding date to intercept the plot. It was their best chance of ensuring that not only the King's marriage went forward, but also that the plotters were caught and punished and they had readily agreed. It was odd to see the Company assembled for such a purpose, especially after the efforts they went through to secure the kingdom in the first place, but all of them had offered their assistance. Once Dain had joined them shortly after, Thorin seemed wary and suspicious despite the other king's assurance that he had no part in their plans.

He offered to return to the Iron Hills with his councillors, in light of the recent events, hoping that they could work together to rebuilt the trust between the two kingdoms after Thorin and Dala had been wedded. Dwalin thought that Thorin might refuse, his anger was plain despite his curt tone, but he nodded stiffly despite this. When the meeting adjourned, Thorin and Dala left through one door while Dain, along with his own men left through the other with some of Dwalin's lads escorting them. Trust would take a while to be rebuilt, it seemed.

He followed behind the others until they veered off towards Dain's chambers, at which point he made for the road to the town. He had patrol that evening along with twenty others, though he had sent them off in pairs due to their relative inexperience, as well as for added safety. Even then as he walked between the huts and shops lining the streets, amid the usual rabble that staggered home from the tavern in small groups, he could feel eyes on him. Unfriendly eyes that watched from the shadows between the structures, and suddenly the apprehension he had felt earlier returned again. They had begun focusing on _him_ now; he had suspected it after the dark glares he had received from them wherever he went and he knew it was a matter of time before it got personal. His thoughts turned immediately to his brother and friends, wondering which one of them would suffer because of his actions in the tavern that night.

As he passed by the window, the torches still alight while the stragglers were ushered out; he caught sight of another who could suffer on his account. Emmy did not notice him standing there looking in, watching as she hastily piled tankards one on top of the other. He felt his warmth in his chest as he saw her flushed cheeks as she worked, not fully aware of the danger she was in – all because of him.

_They won't touch her_, he promised himself mentally as he walked further up the road. _They wouldn't dare touch her._

* * *

**Next Chapter: Ori...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: A short chapter for you, though I don't want to focus too much on the other characters in this fic. Most of them will have a oneshot of their own, though not with the same OC and not in this universe. Sorry :p **

**A personal thanks to: Empress of Cornwall, Loki'sdreamer, Mel-Mel 2011, UKReader and Abyss Prime for reviewing the most and giving me a great boost to continue writing. Though of course I love EVERY single person who leaves a comment :) You make it worth all the time it takes to write.**

**Anyway, without further ado...  
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* * *

This feeling was a new one, thought Ori as he moved blindly back towards the mountain. He felt the weight of the books in his arms, but the numbness that had begun in his heart after he walked away had spread throughout his body. It felt similar to when his father had died and left him in the care of his two older brothers, yet the pain was markedly different. He had never considered how far he had let his feelings for Haili get the better of him, blotting out the shapes and faces of others until only hers was visible, but it was too late now. _Engaged_, to one of his closest friends no less!

His feet dragged as he passed a few guards on the way back to the deserted library, the only place he knew would be safe from any prying eyes. The only problem was that it reminded him of her, how she spent hours arranging scrolls by order of date on the dusty shelves, and how he would have to face her again day after day without showing her how bitterly she'd hurt him. It wasn't her fault he reasoned, as he finally reached the great stone doors. She had known nothing of his feelings; he'd spent so long perfecting the method of concealing his inner thoughts for fear of other's intense scrutiny, so he could not consciously blame her. However, he could not help feeling angry and a little betrayed, which was probably the reason he'd lashed out when he saw that the library was not as empty as he'd envisioned.

'Oi! What are you doing?' he snapped, causing the smaller girl to lurch to her feet in shock. She had been reading the scrolls he had not had a chance to archive yet and, though he knew he was being unreasonable, his anger at his own misfortune had found vent and would not let it go. 'The library is closed!'

She backed up as he came closer; dropping the books he carried onto the nearest table with a loud bang. Ori felt the heat of his anger behind his eyes and actively tried to stop it, realising he was scaring the girl, and it took him all of his practised control to battle it back down. He was quiet and unassuming, that was him. Anger and violence were Dwalin's forte.

'I'm sorry, sir,' she said quickly, obviously taking his strained silence as his preparing to do her some injury. She raised her arms in a gesture of submission, dropping her head so that her black hair obscured her face. Everything about her screamed submissive, defensive and shy.

All at once Ori saw himself reflected in her behaviour, and his ire disappeared in the wake of his sudden guilt and shame. 'I'm sorry, please don't be afraid,' he said gently, taking a slower step towards her.

She looked up, surprised at his gentler tone, though her eyes were still wary. His chest ached, she was evidently used to facing anger just as he had been, though he ventured a guess that she was less likely to escape unscathed.

He tried again, 'I did not mean to shout at you. Today has been…difficult…but that was no reason to take it out on you.'

She bit her lip, 'I should have asked permission, but there was no one here.'

'You don't need permission to read in a library,' he chuckled, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She sank into the nearest one gratefully, though the tension had not left her. Ori had never been a very skilled fighter, nor was he particularly burly and strong, but he was unbeatable when it came to understanding the way people think. He had spent so long observing others, either wishing he were more like them or jealous of their more 'dwarvish' tendencies that he simply didn't possess, that he had learnt to recognise emotions in others more easily. This girl he had never seen before, her accent was thicker than his and her clothing was styled in the fashion of Dain's people, which told him that she was a stranger to Erebor.

She sat with her back straight, right at the edge of her seat, and her head bent just enough to hide her face behind her hair. She looked at the table top, or out of the window, or anywhere really, so long as it was not at him. He almost smiled. It was something Nori had his life for on a daily basis. He cleared his throat, knowing that it was now up to him to break the silence.

'We usually close the library after sundown,' he said conversationally, 'Though I sometimes come here when I need peace and quiet. I'm Ori, by the way.'

'Runa,' she replied, hesitantly. 'I-I usually spend quite a bit of time in my father's library at home, but I haven't read much since coming here. He spends most of his days with the king, especially since he's on the council. I hardly ever see him.'

Ori froze, but tried not to show it, nodding his head and smiling as she explained. She was a nobleman's daughter, a nobleman who – most likely – was trying to cause his own king a whole lot of trouble. Dori would tell him that he ought to stop speaking to her and tell her to bugger off, whereas Nori would ask her questions about her father – using her open and unguarded nature to work to his advantage – so that he could take the knowledge to Thorin. In light of recent events his brothers were probably right to think this, he had even seen some of the scornful looks from the Iron borns himself, but Ori could not ignore what he knew to be true. He was not his brothers. He did not have their skills or strengths, and they did not have his.

Runa may be a nobleman' daughter, but she was not filled with the malevolence of some of the others. He doubted she even knew what they were talking about in secret all around her, remaining blissfully unaware of the animosity that was growing between the two kingdoms each day, and he would not hold her accountable for it. She may be iron born, but she was not her father…no more than he was his.

'Well, I'm sorry to hear that,' he said gently, before getting to his feet. 'Come, I'll show you around.'

Runa seemed to forget her shyness then as he led her over to the back of the room, straight towards the oldest tomes about the days of old when Erebor was in the height of its splendour. They spend hours poring over them, both of them pleased to have found so enthusiastic a companion to read with that, suddenly, they found themselves squinting to read by the light of the moon. Ori was sat on the floor with his back against one of the shelves, balancing a book in his lap as Runa leant over him. He had just finished telling her about the extensive, west facing gardens that had bloomed in the time of Thror's reign when he suddenly noticed his surroundings.

'Its past midnight!' he exclaimed suddenly, causing his companion to jump. Ori blushed furiously, 'Sorry.'

She laughed, 'Don't be, my father won't be back from his meeting yet. He said it was going to go on most of the night.'

Ori frowned, 'Ah, I see. Well I should probably see you back anyway, just in case he comes back early and doesn't know where you are.'

He noticed her blush in the low light, his stomach flipping pleasantly.

'Ok,' she agreed.

He pulled her to her feet, helping to file the books away in the correct order before they exited the library and made their way down to where her chambers were located. The empty feeling he had experienced only hours before had begun to fill during the course of the evening, and he had to catch himself before he got too far ahead again. She was not from here, and her father would not want his daughter to have him as a friend, let alone anything else. However, he allowed himself to hope despite the small odds in his favour. He had never gotten so close to a female before, not even during the past year he had worked alongside Haili, never forming any sort of bond deeper than that of friendship.

He had known Runa for a little over five hours, and they had not gotten off to the best start, yet something was different with her. She made him feel solid, in control, as though he had nothing to fear and it put him at ease. She was shy enough for them both, yet he had managed to talk to her for far longer than he had ever managed with anyone, his brothers and close friends the only exceptions. Ori knew that he had to see her again, as often as he could, before she had to go back to the Iron Hills. It could all turn out as badly as it had with Haili, ending in his total resignation to being alone forever, but he had to try.

When she stopped outside her door, Ori gathered his courage.

'I'm usually the last one in the library on a night,' he said nervously, kicking himself mentally for his shaky voice. 'If you want, you could come along at seven again and I could show you some even rarer books?'

He fought the urge to close his eyes and tense in preparation for a rebuff as he waited for her answer. He was looking down at the floor, displaying all the signs of anxiety she had shown previously, despite his newfound feeling of courage. He did not look up until he felt a small, warm hand close over his.

Runa smiled shyly, 'That would be wonderful.'

'Really?' he asked, before he realised how silly he sounded.

She chuckled, 'Yes. Most of my days are spent idly, unless I'm forced to accompany one of the other's to the town while our fathers are at council. I would like to have something to look forward to.'

Ori felt his heart soar and his insides roiled with excitement. He blushed again, more noticeably now that the torches lit the surrounding area and he nodded in agreement.

'Well, if you are ever bored or i-in need of, err, company, you can always come to the library.'

Runa hesitated, before she quickly darted forwards and kissed him on the cheek, causing his skin to heat as if it had been burned.

'Thank you, Ori,' she said, before darting into her room and closing the door.

He stood rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend what had happened. The place on his skin that her lips had touched was on fire but in a marvellous kind of way, making him never want to wash his face again. His feet had begun moving then, taking him further up and deeper into the mountain while his brain was frozen in shock, until he found himself in the middle of his shared chambers.

Dori jumped up from his chair when he saw him, concern written across his face. Though it was Nori, sitting with his feet up on their small kitchen table, that spoke first.

'No need to run off like that, little brother,' he began, though there was a trace of humour in his voice. 'Dori was almost wetting himself in fear. Thought you'd gone and off'd yourself, lad.'

Ori rolled his eyes at Dori's sour expression, 'Sorry, but I had to get away.'

Dori nodded, 'I don't blame you. Why didn't you tell anyone about her? I'm sure Bofur wouldn't have entertained the idea of courting her if you'd said.'

Ori threw his coat over the back of a chair and sat down, forcing Dori to do the same.

'I didn't want to tell anyone,' he said with a half-smile, thinking how good that decision was. Haili probably had not thought of him in that way at all.

Nori seemed to pick up his emotions quicker than their brother, 'Doesn't sound like you're too bothered by it now though. Where did you go, I wonder?'

Dori looked between them questioningly, until he noticed Ori's smile. He could not have hidden it if he tried, especially not after the kiss, and he decided to answer his brother's question honestly.

'I went to the library,' he answered steadily, beneath Nori's suspicious gaze. His second eldest brother was famed for being the nosiest git in the entire kingdom.

He dropped his legs from the table and leaned forward on his arms, 'Oh aye? And who did you meet in the library, eh?'

_Damn_. There was no way of getting out of this one. He thought for a moment, wondering how bad it could possibly be if he told them about Runa, before his own joy overruled his caution. He sat back on his chair, folding his arms behind his head and grinned.

'Her name's Runa,' he declared proudly, watching as his brothers exchanged very shocked expressions. He waited for them to take it in before adding, 'she kissed me.'

'What?!'

'No way!'

'Are you meeting her again?'

He held up his hand, shutting them up rather quickly, and revelled in his momentary power over his older siblings. He explained about their arrangement to meet the next day, and extracted promises from them both that they would leave him alone. They promised, though he knew Nori at least would break it, and decided that he would offer her a walk around the grounds before going back to reading to put his brothers off the scent.

He was happy, truly happy, probably for the first time since he had come back from the quest. Seeing other's around him pairing up, his own brother's included, had made him feel as though he were the only dwarf in middle-earth who was destined to die with nothing but a few scribbled notes to his name. Now though, he felt as though he had been given a lifeline. Runa. And even if it meant leaving home, leaving everything and everyone he had even known behind, he would not give up until he was sure of his defeat.

Dwarves were stubborn after all and Ori, quiet and gentle though he was, still possessed just a little of the deviousness his family were known for. He smirked internally as this thought occurred to him and allowed his brother's conversation to gradually fade out of his hearing, his thoughts straying back to that corridor and the kiss.


End file.
